UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT   LOS  ANGELES 


THE  HUNTING  WASPS 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

THE  LIFE  OF  THE  SPIDER 
THE  LIFE  OF  THE  FLY 

THE  MASON-BEES 

BRAMBLE-BEES  AND  OTHERS 

THE  HUNTING  WASPS 


THE 
HUNTING  WASPS 


BY 


J.    HENRI    FABRE 


TRANSLATED  BY 
ALEXANDER  TEIXIERA  DE  MATTOS 

FELLOW   OP  THE  ZOOLOGICAL  SOCIETY   OP  LONDON 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 
1916 


COPYRIGHT,  1915 
BY  DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 


Cx>heg« 


nuT 

g!  CONTENTS 

3 

FACE 

TRANSLATOR'S  NOTE      .     .     .     .     ,     vii 

I   THE      BUPRESTIS-HUNTING      CER- 

CERIS I 

§       II   THE  GREAT  CERCERIS         .        .        .19 

—"III   A  SCIENTIFIC  SLAUGHTERER   .        .       42 

*         IV  THE  YELLOW-WINGED   SPHEX         .       6 1 

V   THE  THREE  DAGGER-THRUSTS        .       80 

5        VI   THE    LARVA   AND   THE    NYMPH     .       92 

—  VII   ADVANCED   THEORIES          .        .        .115 

VIII   THE  LANGUEDOCIAN  SPHEX   .        .139 

— IX   THE  WISDOM  OF  INSTINCT      .        .     l6l 

— »X   THE  IGNORANCE  OF  INSTINCT      .     1 88 

XI   AN  ASCENT  OF  MONT  VENTOUX        2  I  2 

XII   THE  TRAVELLERS 233 

XIII  THE  AMMOPHIL^E         .        .        .        .250 

XIV  THE  BEMBEX 272 

XV   THE  FLY-HUNT 294 

XVI   A     PARASITE     OF     THE     BEMBEX. 

THE  COCOON 308 


390391 


Contents 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVII   THE  RETURN  TO  THE  NEST    .        -331 
XVIII   THE  HAIRY  AMMOPHILA   .        .        -351 
XIX  AN  UNKNOWN  SENSE         .        .        .371 
XX  THE     MODERN     THEORY     OF     IN- 
STINCT           385 

APPENDIX       .........    413 

INDEX       .       . 421 


TRANSLATOR'S  NOTE 

TTENRI  Fabre's  essays  on  Wasps  will  fill 
*-  •*•  three  volumes  in  all,  of  which  this  is  the 
first.  The  others  will  be  entitled  The  Mason- 
Wasps  and  More  Hunting  Wasps.  The 
former  will  include  the  chapters  on  the  Com- 
mon or  Social  Wasp. 

The  first  seventeen  chapters  of  the  present 
book  appeared  some  years  ago,  wholly  or  in 
part,  in  a  version  of  Vol.  I  of  the  Souvenirs 
Entomologiques  prepared  by  the  author  of 
Mademoiselle  Mori  for  Messrs.  Macmillan 
&  Co.,  by  arrangement  with  whom  1  am  now 
permitted  to  retranslate  and  republish  them 
for  the  purpose  of  this  collected  and  definite 
edition  of  Fabre's  entomological  works.  Of 
the  remainder,  The  Modern  Theory  of  In- 
stinct first  saw  the  light  in  The  English  Re- 
view and  An  Unknown  Sense,  in  an  abbrevi- 
ated form,  in  The  Daily  Mail. 

It  is  a  pleasure  once  more  to  express  my 
thanks  to  Miss  Frances  Rodwell,  who,  as 
usual,  has  rendered  me  much  valuable  assist- 


Translator's  Note 

ance,  and  to  Mr.  Geoffrey  Meade-Waldo,  of 
the  Natural  History  Museum,  who  has  been 
kind  enough  to  set  me  right  on  many  an 
entomological  point. 

ALEXANDER  TEIXEIRA  DE  MATTOS. 
CHELSEA,  1915. 


viii 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   BUPRESTIS-HUNTING   CERCERIS 

'  I  AHERE  are  for  each  one  of  us,  according 
•••  to  his  turn  of  mind,  certain  books  that 
open  up  horizons  hitherto  undreamed  of  and 
mark  an  epoch  in  our  mental  life.  They 
fling  wide  the  gates  of  a  new  world  wherein 
our  intellectual  powers  are  henceforth  to  be 
employed ;  they  are  the  spark  which  lights  the 
fuel  on  a  hearth  doomed,  without  its  aid,  to 
remain  indefinitely  bleak  and  cold.  And  it 
is  often  chance  that  places  in  our  hands  those 
books  which  mark  the  beginning  of  a  new 
era  in  the  evolution  of  our  ideas.  The  most 
casual  circumstances,  a  few  lines  that  happen 
somehow  to  come  before  our  eyes  decide  our 
future  and  plant  us  in  the  appointed  groove. 
One  winter  evening,  when  the  rest  of  the 
household  was  asleep,  as  I  sat  reading  beside 
a  stove  whose  ashes  were  still  warm,  my  book 
made  me  forget  for  a  while  the  cares  of  the 
morrow:  those  heavy  cares  of  a  poor  profes- 
sor of  physics  who,  after  piling  up  diplomas 
and  for  a  quarter  of  a  century  performing 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

services  of  uncontested  merit,  was  receiving 
for  himself  and  his  family  a  stipend  of  six- 
teen hundred  francs,  or  less  than  the  wages  of 
a  groom  in  a  decent  establishment.  Such  was 
the  disgraceful  parsimony  of  the  day  where 
education  was  concerned;  such  was  the  edict 
of  our  government  red-tape :  I  was  an  irregu- 
lar, the  offspring  of  my  solitary  studies.  And 
so  I  was  forgetting  the  poverty  and  anxieties 
of  a  professor's  life,  amid  my  books,  when  I 
chanced  to  turn  over  the  pages  of  an  entomo- 
logical essay  that  had  fallen  into  my  hands  I 
forget  how. 

It  was  a  monograph  by  the  then  father  of 
entomology,  the  venerable  scientist  Leon  Du- 
four,1  on  the  habits  of  a  Wasp  that  hunted 
Buprestis-beetles.  Certainly,  I  had  not 
waited  till  then  to  interest  myself  in  insects; 
from  my  early  childhood,  I  had  delighted  in 
Beetles,  Bees  and  Butterflies;  as  far  back  as 
I  can  remember,  I  see  myself  in  ecstasy  be- 
fore the  splendour  of  a  Ground-beetle's  wing- 
cases  or  the  wings  of  Papilio  machaon,  the 

aL^on  Dufour  (1780-1865)  was  an  army  surgeon  who 
served  with  distinction  in  several  campaigns  and  sub- 
sequently practised  as  a  doctor  in  the  Landes.  He  at- 
tained great  eminence  as  a  naturalist.  Cf.  The  Life  of 
the  Spider:  by  J.  Henri  Fabre,  translated  by  Alexander 
Teixeira  de  Mattos,  chap.  i. —  Translator's  Note. 


The  Buprestis-hunting  Cerceris 

Swallowtail.  The  fire  was  laid;  the  spark  to 
kindle  it  was  absent.  Leon  Dufour's  essay 
provided  that  spark. 

New  lights  burst  forth:  I  received  a  sort 
of  mental  revelation.  So  there  was  more  in 
science  than  the  arranging  of  pretty  Beetles 
in  a  cork  box  and  giving  them  names  and 
classifying  them;  there  was  something  much 
finer:  a  close  and  loving  study  of  insect  life, 
the  examination  of  the  structure  and  especially 
the  faculties  of  each  species.  I  read  of  a 
magnificent  instance  of  this,  glowing  with  ex- 
citement as  I  did  so.  Some  time  after,  aided 
by  those  lucky  circumstances  which  he  who 
seeks  them  eagerly  is  always  able  to  find,  I 
myself  published  an  entomological  article,  a 
supplement  to  Leon  Dufour's.  This  first 
work  of  mine  won  honourable  mention  from 
the  Institute  of  France  and  was  awarded  a 
prize  for  experimental  physiology.  But  soon 
I  received  a  far  more  welcome  recompense, 
in  the  shape  of  a  most  eulogistic  and  encour- 
aging letter  from  the  very  man  who  had  in- 
spired me.  From  his  home  in  the  Landes, 
the  revered  master  sent  me  a  warm  expression 
of  his  enthusiasm  and  urged  me  to  go  on  with 
my  studies.  Even  now,  at  that  sacred  recol- 
lection, my  old  eyes  fill  with  happy  tears.  O 
3 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

fair  days  of  illusion,  of  faith  in  the  future, 
where  are  you  now? 

I  am  sure  that  my  readers  will  welcome  an 
extract  from  the  essay  that  formed  the  start- 
ing-point of  my  own  researches,  especially  as 
this  extract  is  necessary  for  the  due  under- 
standing of  what  follows.  I  will  therefore 
let  the  master  speak  for  himself,  abridging 
his  words  in  parts:  * 

"  In  all  insect  history,  I  can  think  of  no 
more  curious,  no  more  extraordinary  fact  than 
that  which  I  am  about  to  describe  to  you.  It 
concerns  a  species  of  Cerceris  who  feeds  her 
family  on  the  most  sumptuous  species  of  the 
genus  Buprestis.  Allow  me  to  make  you 
share  the  vivid  impressions  which  I  owe  to 
my  study  of  this  Hymenopteron's  habits. 

"  In  July  1839,  a  friend  living  in  the  coun- 
try sent  me  two  specimens  of  Buprestis  bl- 
fasdata,  an  insect  at  that  time  new  to  my 
collection,  informing  me  that  a  kind  of  Wasp 
that  was  carrying  one  of  these  pretty  Beetles 
had  let  it  fall  on  his  coat  and  that,  a  few 
moments  later,  a  similar  Wasp  had  dropped 
another  on  the  ground. 

aFor  the  complete  monograph,  cf.  Annales  ties  sciences 
naturelles:  Series  II.,  vol.  xv. —  Author's  Note. 


The  Buprestis-hunting  Cerceris 

"  In  July  1840,  I  was  visiting  my  friend's 
house  professionally  and  reminded  him  of 
his  capture  of  the  year  before  and  asked  for 
details  of  the  circumstances  that  accompanied 
it.  The  identity  of  the  season  and  place 
made  me  hope  to  make  a  similar  capture  my- 
self; but  the  weather  that  day  was  overcast 
and  chilly;  and  therefore  but  few  Wasps  had 
ventured  out.  Nevertheless,  we  made  a  tour 
of  inspection  in  the  garden;  and,  seeing  no- 
thing coming,  I  thought  of  looking  on  the 
ground  for  the  homes  of  Burrowing  Hymen- 
optera. 

"  My  attention  was  attracted  by  a  small 
heap  of  sand  freshly  thrown  up  and  forming 
a  sort  of  tiny  mole-hill.  On  raking  it,  I  saw 
that  it  masked  the  opening  of  a  shaft  running 
some  way  down.  With  a  spade  we  carefully 
turned  over  the  soil  and  soon  saw  the  glitter- 
ing wing-cases  of  the  coveted  Buprestis  lying 
scattered  around.  Presently  I  discovered  not 
only  isolated  and  fragmentary  wing-cases, 
but  a  whole  Buprestis,  then  three  or  four  of 
them,  displaying  their  emerald  and  gold.  I 
could  not  believe  my  eyes. 

"  But  this  was  only  a  prelude  to  the  feast. 
In  the  chaos  of  rubbish  produced  by  the  ex- 
humation, a  Wasp  appeared  and  fell  into  my 
5 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

hands:  it  was  the  kidnapper  of  the  Buprestes, 
trying  to  escape  from  among  her  victims.  In 
this  burrowing  insect,  I  recognized  an  old 
acquaintance,  a  Cerceris  whom  I  have  found 
hundreds  of  times,  both  in  Spain  and  round 
about  Saint-Sever. 

"  My  ambition  was  far  from  satisfied.  It 
was  not  enough  for  me  to  identify  the  kid- 
napper and  her  victim:  I  wanted  the  larva, 
the  sole  consumer  of  those  rich  provisions. 
After  exhausting  this  first  vein  of  Buprestes, 
I  hastened  to  make  fresh  excavations  and, 
planting  my  spade  more  carefully  still,  I  at 
last  succeeded  in  discovering  two  larvae  which 
crowned  the  good  fortune  of  this  campaign. 
In  less  than  an  hour,  I  ransacked  the  haunts 
of  three  Cerceres;  and  my  booty  was  some 
fifteen  whole  Buprestes,  with  fragments  of 
a  still  larger  number.  I  calculated,  keeping, 
I  believe,  well  within  the  mark,  that  this  par- 
ticular garden  contained  five-and-twenty  nests, 
making  an  enormous  total  of  buried  Bupre- 
stes. What  must  it  be,  I  thought,  in  places 
where  in  a  few  hours  I  have  caught  on  the 
garlic-flowers  as  many  as  sixty  Cerceres, 
whose  nests  were  apparently  in  the  neighbour- 
hood and  no  doubt  victualled  just  as  abun- 
dantly? And  so  my  imagination,  never  going 
6 


The  Buprestis-hunting  Cerceris 

beyond  the  bounds  of  probability,  showed 
me  underground,  within  a  small  radius, 
Buprestis  fasciata  by  the  thousand,  whereas, 
during  the  thirty  years  and  upwards  that  I 
have  been  studying  the  entomology  of  this 
district,  I  never  discovered  a  single  one  in 
the  open. 

"  Once  only,  perhaps  twenty  years  ago,  I 
found  the  abdomen  of  this  insect,  together 
with  its  wing-cases,  stuck  in  a  hole  in  an  old 
oak.  This  fact  was  illuminating.  By  in- 
forming me  that  the  larva  of  Buprestis 
fasciata  must  live  in  the  wood  of  the  oak,  it 
completely  explained  why  this  Beetle  is  so 
common  in  a  district  which  has  none  but  oak- 
forests.  As  Cerceris  bupresticida  is  rare  in 
the  clay  hills  of  such  districts,  as  compared 
with  the  sandy  plains  thickly  planted  with  the 
maritime  pine,  it  became  an  interesting  ques- 
tion to  know  whether  this  Wasp,  when  she 
inhabits  the  pine  country,  victuals  her  nest 
in  the  same  way  as  in  the  oak  country.  I  had 
a  strong  presumption  that  this  was  not  the 
case;  and  you  will  soon  see,  not  without  sur- 
prise, what  exquisite  entomological  discrim- 
ination our  Cerceris  displays  in  her  choice  of 
the  numerous  species  of  the  genus  Buprestis. 

"  We  will  therefore  hasten  to  the  pine 
7 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

region  to  reap  new  delights.  The  field  to 
be  explored  is  the  garden  of  a  country-house 
standing  amid  forests  of  maritime  pines. 
One  soon  recognized  the  dwellings  of  the  Cer- 
ceris;  they  had  been  made  solely  in  the  main 
paths,  where  the  firm,  compact  soil  offered  the 
Burrowing  Hymenopteron  a  solid  founda- 
tion for  the  construction  of  her  subterranean 
abode.  I  inspected  some  twenty,  I  may  say, 
by  the  sweat  of  my  brow.  It  is  a  very  labori- 
ous sort  of  undertaking,  for  the  nests  and 
consequently  the  provisions  are  not  found  at 
less  than  a  foot  below  the  surface.  It  be- 
comes necessary,  therefore,  lest  they  should 
be  damaged,  to  begin  by  inserting  a  grass- 
stalk,  serving  as  a  landmark  and  a  guide,  into 
the  Cerceris'  gallery  and  next  to  invest  the 
place  with  a  square  of  trenches,  some  seven 
or  eight  inches  from  the  orifice  or  the  land- 
mark. The  sapping  must  be  done  with  a 
garden-spade,  so  that  the  central  clod  can  be 
completely  detached  on  every  side  and  raised 
in  one  piece,  which  we  turn  over  on  the 
ground  and  then  break  up  carefully.  This 
was  the  method  that  answered  with  me. 

"  You  would  have  shared  our  enthusiasm, 
my  friend,  at  the  sight  of  the  beautiful  speci- 
mens of  Buprestes  which  this  original  method 
8 


The  Buprestis-hunting  Cerceris 

of  treasure-hunting  disclosed,  one  after  the 
other,  to  our  eager  gaze.  You  should  have 
heard  our  exclamations  each  time  that  the 
mine  was  turned  upside  down  and  new  glories 
stood  revealed,  rendered  more  brilliant  still 
by  the  blazing  sun;  or  when  we  discovered, 
here,  larvae  of  all  ages  fastened  to  their  prey, 
there,  the  cocoons  of  those  larvae  all  encrusted 
with  copper,  bronze  and  emerald.  I  who 
had  been  studying  insects  at  close  quarters 
for  three  or  four  decades  —  alas !  —  had 
never  witnessed  such  a  lovely  sight  nor  en- 
joyed so  great  a  treat.  It  only  needed  your 
presence  to  double  our  delight.  Our  ever- 
increasing  admiration  was  devoted  by  turns 
to  those  brilliant  Beetles  and  to  the  marvel- 
lous discernment,  the  astonishing  sagacity  of 
the  Cerceris  who  had  buried  and  stored  them 
away.  Will  you  believe  it,  of  more  than  four 
hundred  Beetles  *  that  we  dug  up,  there  was 
not  one  but  belonged  to  the  old  genus  Bupre- 
stis!  Not  even  the  very  smallest  mistake 
had  been  made  by  the  wise  Wasp.  What  can 
we  not  learn  from  this  intelligent  industry  in 
so  tiny  an  insect!  What  value  would  not 

1The  450  Buprestes  unearthed  belong  to  the  following 
species:    Buprestis    octoguttata;    B.    fasciata;    B.    pruni; 
B.  tarda;  B.  biguttata;  B.  micans;  B.  flavomaculata;  B, 
chrysostigma;  and  B.  novemmaculata. —  Author's  Note, 
9 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

Latreille  *  have  set  upon  this  Cerceris'  sup- 
port of  the  natural  method! 

"  We  will  now  pass  to  the  different 
manoeuvres  of  the  Cerceris  for  establishing 
and  victualling  her  nests.  I  have  already 
said  that  she  chooses  ground  with  a  firm,  com- 
pact and  smooth  surface;  I  will  add  that  this 
ground  must  be  dry  and  fully  exposed  to  the 
sun.  She  reveals  in  this  choice  an  intelli- 
gence, or,  if  you  prefer,  an  instinct,  which 
one  might  be  tempted  to  consider  the  result  of 
experience.  Loose  earth  or  a  merely  sandy 
soil  would  doubtless  be  much  easier  to  dig; 
but  then  how  is  she  to  get  an  aperture  that 
will  remain  open  for  goods  to  pass  in  and 
out,  or  a  gallery  whose  walls  will  not  con- 
stantly be  liable  to  fall  in,  to  lose  their  shape, 
to  be  blocked  after  a  few  days  of  rain?  Her 
choice  therefore  is  both  sensible  and  nicely 
calculated. 

"  Our  Burrowing  Wasp  digs  her  gallery 
with  her  mandibles  and  her  front  tarsi,  which 
are  furnished  for  this  purpose  with  stiff 
spikes  that  perform  the  office  of  rakes.  The 
orifice  must  not  only  have  the  diameter  of 

iPierre  Andre  Latreille  (1762-1833),  a  French  natu- 
ralist who  was  one  of  the  founders  of  entomological 
science. —  Translator's  Note. 

10 


The  Buprestis-hunting  Cerceris 

the  miner's  body :  it  must  also  be  able  to  admit 
a  capture  of  large  bulk.  It  is  an  instance 
of  admirable  foresight.  As  the  Cerceris  goes 
deeper  into  the  earth,  she  casts  out  the  rub- 
bish: this  forms  the  heap  which  I  likened 
above  to  a  tiny  mole-hill.  The  gallery  is  not 
perpendicular,  for  then  it  would  inevitably 
become  blocked  up,  owing  either  to  the  wind 
or  to  other  causes.  Not  far  from  where  it 
starts,  it  forms  an  angle ;  its  length  is  seven  or 
eight  inches.  At  the  end  of  the  passage, 
the  industrious  mother  establishes  the  cradles 
of  her  offspring.  These  consist  of  five  se- 
parate cells,  independent  of  one  another,  ar- 
ranged in  a  semicircle  and  hollowed  into  the 
shape  and  nearly  the  size  of  an  olive.  Inside, 
they  are  polished  and  firm.  Each  of  them  is 
large  enough  to  contain  three  Buprestes, 
which  form  the  usual  allowance  for  each 
larva.  The  mother  lays  an  egg  in  the  middle 
of  the  three  victims  and  then  stops  up  the 
gallery  with  earth,  so  that,  when  the  vic- 
tualling of  the  whole  brood  is  finished,  the 
cells  no  longer  communicate  with  the  outside. 
"  Cerceris  bupresticida  must  be  a  dexter- 
ous, daring  and  skilful  huntress.  The  clean- 
liness and  freshness  of  the  Buprestes  whom 
she  buries  in  her  lair  incline  one  to  believe 
ii 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

that  she  must  seize  these  Beetles  at  the  mo- 
ment when  they  are  leaving  the  wooden  gal- 
leries in  which  their  final  metamorphosis  has 
taken  place.  But  what  inconceivable  instinct 
urges  her,  a  creature  that  lives  solely  on  the 
nectar  of  flowers,  to  procure,  in  the  face  of 
a  thousand  difficulties,  animal  food  for  carni- 
vorous children  which  she  will  never  see  and 
to  take  up  her  post  on  utterly  dissimilar  trees, 
which  conceal  deep  down  in  their  trunks  the 
insects  destined  to  become  her  prey?  What 
yet  more  inconceivable  entomological  judg- 
ment lays  down  the  strict  law  that  she  shall 
confine  herself  in  the  choice  of  her  victims 
to  a  single  generic  group  and  capture  speci- 
mens differing  greatly  among  themselves  in 
size,  shape  and  colour?  For  observe,  my 
friend,  how  slight  the  resemblance  is  between 
Buprestis  biguttata,  with  a  long,  slender  body 
and  a  dark  colour;  B.  octogitttata,  oval- 
oblong,  with  great  patches  of  a  beautiful  yel- 
low on  a  blue  or  green  ground;  and  B.  micans, 
who  is  three  or  four  times  the  size  of  B.  bi- 
gultala  and  glitters  with  a  metallic  lustre  of 
a  fine  golden  green. 

"  There  is  another  very  singular  fact  about 
the  manoeuvres  of  our  Buprestis-slayer.     The 
buried  Buprestes,  like  those  whom  I  have 
12 


The  Buprestis-hunting  Cerceris 

seized  in  the  grasp  of  their  kidnappers,  are 
always  deprived  of  any  sign  of  life ;  in  a  word, 
they  are  decidedly  dead.  I  was  surprised  to 
remark  that,  no  matter  when  these  corpses 
were  dug  up,  they  not  only  preserved  all  their 
freshness  of  colouring,  but  their  legs,  anten- 
nae, palpi  and  the  membranes  uniting  the 
various  parts  of  the  body  remained  perfectly 
supple  and  flexible.  There  was  no  mutila- 
tion, no  apparent  wound  to  be  seen.  One 
might  at  first  believe  the  reason,  in  the  case 
of  the  buried  ones,  to  be  due  to  the  coolness 
of  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  in  the  absence  of 
air  and  light;  and,  in  the  case  of  those  taken 
from  the  kidnappers,  to  the  very  recent  date 
of  their  death.  But  please  observe  that,  at 
the  time  of  my  explorations,  after  placing  the 
numerous  exhumed  Buprestes  in  separate 
screws  of  paper,  I  often  left  them  in  their 
little  bags  for  thirty-six  hours  before  pinning 
them  out.  Well,  notwithstanding  the  dry- 
ness  of  the  air  and  the  burning  July  heat,  I 
always  found  the  same  flexibility  in  their 
joints.  Nay  more:  I  have  dissected  several 
of  them,  after  that  lapse  of  time,  and  their 
viscera  were  as  perfectly  preserved  as  if  I 
had  used  my  scalpel  on  the  insects'  live  en- 
trails. Now  long  experience  has  taught  me 
13 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

that,  even  in  a  Beetle  of  this  size,  when  twelve 
hours  have  passed  after  death  in  summer,  the 
internal  organs  become  either  dried  up  or 
putrefied,  so  that  it  is  impossible  to  make  sure 
of  their  form  or  structure.  There  is  some 
special  circumstance  about  the  Buprestes 
killed  by  the  Cerceres  that  saves  them  from 
desiccation  and  putrefaction  for  a  week  and 
perhaps  two.  But  what  is  this  circum- 
stance? " 

To  explain  this  wonderful  preservation  of 
the  tissues  which  makes  of  an  insect  smitten 
for  many  weeks  past  with  a  corpse-like  inert- 
ness a  piece  of  game  which  does  not  even  go 
high  and  which,  during  the  greatest  heat  of 
summer,  keeps  as  fresh  as  at  the  moment  of 
its  capture,  the  able  historian  of  the  Buprestis- 
huntress  surmises  the  presence  of  an  antiseptic 
fluid,  acting  similarly  to  the  preparations  used 
for  preserving  anatomical  specimens.  This 
fluid,  he  suggests,  can  be  nothing  but  the 
poison  of  the  Wasp,  injected  into  the  victim's 
body.  A  tiny  drop  of  the  venomous  liquid 
accompanying  the  sting,  the  needle  destined 
for  the  inoculation,  would  therefore  serve  as 
a  kind  of  brine  or  pickle  to  preserve  the  meat 
on  which  the  larva  is  to  feed.  But  how  im- 


The  Buprestis-hunting  Cerceris 

mensely  superior  to  our  own  pickling-pro- 
cesses  is  that  of  the  Wasp !  We  salt,  or 
smoke,  or  tin  foodstuffs  which  remain  fit  to 
eat,  it  is  true,  but  which  are  very  far  indeed 
from  retaining  the  qualities  which  they  pos- 
sessed when  fresh.  Tins  of  sardines  soaked 
in  oil,  Dutch  smoked  herrings,  codfish  re- 
duced to  hard  slabs  by  salt  and  sun:  which  of 
these  can  compare  with  the  same  fish  sup- 
plied to  the  cook,  so  to  speak,  all  alive  and 
kicking?  In  the  case  of  flesh-meat,  things 
are  even  worse.  Apart  from  salting  and  cu- 
ring, we  have  nothing  that  can  keep  a  piece  of 
meat  fit  for  consumption  for  even  a  fairly 
short  period. 

Nowadays,  after  a  thousand  fruitless  at- 
tempts in  the  most  varied  directions,  we  equip 
special  ships  at  great  cost;  and  these  ships, 
fitted  with  a  powerful  refrigerating-plant, 
bring  us  the  flesh  of  sheep  and  oxen  slaught- 
ered in  the  South-American  pampas,  frozen 
and  preserved  from  decomposition  by  the  in- 
tense cold.  How  much  more  excellent  is  the 
Cerceris'  method,  so  swift,  so  inexpensive  and 
so  efficacious!  What  lessons  can  we  not 
learn  from  her  transcendental  chemistry! 
With  an  imperceptible  drop  of  her  poison- 
fluid,  she  straightway  renders  her  prey  incor- 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

ruptible!  Incorruptible,  did  I  say?  It  is 
much  more  than  that !  The  game  is  brought 
to  a  condition  which  prevents  desiccation, 
leaves  the  joints  supple,  keeps  all  the  organs, 
both  internal  and  external,  in  their  pristine 
freshness  and,  in  short,  places  the  sacrificed 
insect  in  a  state  that  differs  from  life  only  by 
its  corpse-like  immobility. 

This  is  the  theory  that  satisfied  Leon 
Dufour,  as  he  contemplated  the  incompre- 
hensible marvel  of  those  dead  Buprestes 
proof  against  corruption.  A  preserving- 
fluid,  incomparably  superior  to  aught  that 
human  science  can  produce,  explains  the  mys- 
tery. He,  the  master,  the  ablest  of  them  all, 
an  expert  in  the  niceties  of  anatomy;  he  who, 
with  magnifying-glass  and  scalpel,  examined 
the  whole  entomological  series,  leaving  no 
nook  or  corner  unexplored;  he,  in  short,  for 
whom  insect  organism  possessed  no  secrets 
can  think  of  nothing  better  than  an  antiseptic 
fluid  to  give  at  least  the  semblance  of  an  ex- 
planation of  a  fact  that  leaves  him  con- 
founded. I  crave  permission  to  emphasize 
this  comparison  between  animal  instinct  and 
the  reasoning-power  of  the  sage  in  order  the 
better  to  bring  to  light,  in  due  season,  the 
overwhelming  superiority  of  the  former. 
16 


The  Buprestis-hunting  Cerceris 

I  will  add  but  a  few  words  to  the  history 
of  the  Buprestis-hunting  Cerceris.  This 
Wasp,  who  is  common  in  the  Landes,  as  her 
historian  tells  us,  appears  to  be  very  rarely 
found  in  the  department  of  Vaucluse.  I  have 
met  her  only  at  long  intervals,  in  autumn  — 
and  then  only  isolated  specimens  —  on  the 
spiny  heads  of  the  field  eryngo  (Eryngium 
campestre),  in  the  neighbourhood  either  of 
Avignon  or  of  Orange  and  Carpentras.  In 
this  last  spot,  so  favourable  to  the  work  of 
the  Burrowing  Wasps  owing  to  its  sandy  soil 
of  Molasse  formation,  I  have  had  the  good 
fortune,  not  to  witness  the  exhumation  of  such 
entomological  treasures  as  Leon  Dufour  de- 
scribes, but  to  find  some  old  nests  which  I 
attribute  without  hesitation  to  the  Buprestis- 
huntress,  basing  my  opinion  upon  the  shape 
of  the  cocoons,  the  nature  of  the  provisioning 
and  the  presence  of  the  Wasp  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood. These  nests,  dug  in  the  heart  of 
a  very  crumbly  sandstone,  known  in  the  dis- 
trict as  safre,  were  crammed  with  remains  of 
Beetles,  remains  easily  recognized  and  con- 
sisting of  detached  Wing-cases,  gutted  corse- 
lets and  entire  legs.  Now  these  broken 
victuals  of  the  larva's  banquet  all  belonged 
to  a  single  species;  and  that  species  was  once 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

more  a  Buprestis,  the  Double-lined  Buprestis 
(Sphenoptera  geminata).*  Thus  from  the 
west  to  the  east  of  France,  from  the  depart- 
ment of  the  Landes  to  that  of  Vaucluse,  the 
Cerceris  remains  faithful  to  her  favourite 
prey;  longitude  makes  no  difference  to  her 
predilections;  a  huntress  of  Buprestes  among 
the  maritime  pines  of  the  sand-dunes  along 
the  coast  remains  a  huntress  of  Buprestes 
among  the  olive-trees  and  evergreen  oaks  of 
Provence.  She  changes  the  species  according 
to  place,  climate  and  vegetation,  which  alter 
the  nature  of  the  insect  population  so  greatly; 
but  she  never  departs  from  her  favoured 
genus,  the  genus  Buprestis.  What  can  her 
reason  be  ?  That  is  what  I  shall  try  to  show. 

JThe  Beetle  known  to  Fabre  as  Sphenoptera  geminata, 
ULIGER,  is  now  considered  identical  with  S.  lineola, 
HERBST,  which  was  known  many  years  earlier. —  Trans- 
lator's Note. 


18 


CHAPTER  II 

THE    GREAT    CERCERIS 

VT7ITH  my  memory  full  of  the  prowess  of 
*  *  the  Buprestis-huntress,  I  watched  for 
an  opportunity  to  observe  in  my  turn  the  la- 
bours of  the  Cerceres;  and  I  watched  to  such 
good  purpose  that  I  ended  by  being  success- 
ful. True,  the  Wasp  was  not  the  one  cele- 
brated by  Leon  Dufour,  with  her  sumptuous 
victuals  whose  remains,  when  unearthed,  sug- 
gest the  dust  of  some  nugget  broken  by  the 
gold-miner's  pick:  it  was  a  kindred  species, 
a  gigantic  brigand  who  contents  herself  with 
humbler  prey ;  in  short,  it  was  Cerceris  tuber- 
culata  or  C.  major,  the  largest  and  most  pow- 
erful of  the  genus. 

The  last  fortnight  in  September  is  the  time 
when  our  Burrowing  Wasp  digs  her  lairs  and 
buries  in  their  depths  the  victim  destined  for 
her  grubs.  The  site  of  the  home,  always 
selected  with  discrimination,  is  subject  to 
those  mysterious  laws  which  differ  in  different 
species  but  are  invariable  throughout  any  one 
species.  Leon  Dufour's  Cerceris  requires  a 
19 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

level,  well-trodden,  compact  soil,  such  as  that 
of  a  path,  to  prevent  the  possibility  of  land- 
slips and  other  damage  which  would  ruin  her 
gallery  at  the  first  shower  of  rain.  Ours,  on 
the  contrary,  is  not  very  particular  about  the 
nature  of  her  soil,  but  must  have  that  soil 
vertical.  With  this  slight  architectural  modi- 
fication, she  avoids  most  of  the  dangers  that 
might  threaten  her  gallery;  and  consequently 
she  digs  her  burrows  indifferently  in  a  loose 
and  slightly  clayey  soil  and  in  the  soft  sand 
of  the  Molasse  formation,  which  makes  the 
work  of  excavation  much  easier.  The  only 
indispensable  condition  appears  to  be  that  the 
earth  should  be  dry  and  exposed  to  the  sun's 
rays  for  the  best  part  of  the  day.  It  is  there- 
fore in  the  steep  road-side  banks,  in  the  sides 
of  the  ravines  hollowed  by  the  rains  in  the 
sandstone  that  our  Wasp  elects  to  establish 
her  home.  These  conditions  are  common  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Carpentras,  in  the  part 
known  as  the  Hollow  Road ;  and  it  is  here  that 
I  have  observed  Cerceris  tuberculata  in  her 
largest  numbers  and  that  I  gathered  most  of 
my  facts  relating  to  her  history. 

The  choice  of  this  vertical  site  is  not  enough 
for  her:  other  precautions  are  taken  to  guard 
against  the   inevitable  rains  of  the  season, 
20 


The  Great  Cerceris 

which  is  already  far-advanced.  If  there  be 
some  bit  of  hard  sandstone  projecting  like  a 
ledge,  if  there  be  naturally  hollowed  in  the 
ground  some  hole  large  enough  to  put  one's 
fist  in,  it  will  be  under  that  shelter  or  in  this 
cavity  that  she  contrives  her  gallery,  thus 
adding  a  natural  vestibule  to  the  edifice  of  her 
own  construction.  Though  no  sort  of  com- 
munism exists  among  them,  these  insects 
nevertheless  like  to  associate  in  small  num- 
bers ;  and  I  have  always  observed  their  nests 
in  groups  of  about  ten  at  least,  with  the 
orifices,  which  are  usually  pretty  far  apart, 
sometimes  close  enough  to  touch  one  another. 
On  a  bright,  sunny  day,  it  is  wonderful  to 
watch  the  different  operations  of  these  indus- 
trious miners.  Some  patiently  remove  with 
their  mandibles  a  few  bits  of  gravel  from  the 
bottom  of  the  pit  and  push  the  heavy  mass 
outside ;  others,  scraping  the  walls  of  the  cor- 
ridor with  the  sharp  rakes  of  their  tarsi,  col- 
lect a  heap  of  rubbish  which  they  sweep  out 
backwards  and  send  streaming  down  the  sides 
of  the  slopes  in  a  long  thread  of  dust.  It 
was  these  periodical  billows  of  sand  dis- 
charged from  the  galleries  in  process  of  build- 
ing that  betrayed  the  presence  of  my  first 
Cerceres  to  me  and  enabled  me  to  discover 
21 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

their  nests.  Others,  either  because  they  are 
tired  or  because  they  have  finished  their  hard 
task,  seem  to  rest  and  polish  their  antennae 
and  wings  under  the  natural  eaves  that  most 
frequently  protect  their  dwelling;  or  else  they 
remain  motionless  at  the  mouth  of  the  hole, 
merely  showing  their  wide,  square  faces, 
striped  black  and  yellow.  Others,  lastly,  flit 
gravely  humming  on  the  neighbouring 
kermes-oak-bushes,  where  the  males,  always 
on  the  watch  near  the  burrows  in  course  of 
construction,  are  not  slow  to  join  them.  Cou- 
ples form,  often  disturbed  by  the  arrival  of  a 
second  male,  who  strives  to  supplant  the 
happy  possessor.  The  humming  becomes 
threatening,  brawls  take  place  and  often  the 
two  males  roll  in  the  dust  until  one  of  them 
acknowledges  the  superiority  of  his  rival. 
Near  by,  the  female  awaits  the  outcome  of 
the  struggle  with  indifference;  she  finally  ac- 
cepts the  male  whom  the  chances  of  the  con- 
test bestow  upon  her;  and  the  couple  fly  out 
of  sight  in  search  of  peace  and  quiet  on  some 
distant  brushwood.  Here  the  part  played 
by  the  males  ends.  Only  half  the  size  of 
the  females  and  nearly  as  numerous,  they 
prowl  all  around  the  burrows,  but  never  enter 
and  never  take  part  in  the  laborious  mining- 
22 


The  Great  Cerceris 

operations  nor  in  the  perhaps  even  more  dif- 
ficult hunting-expeditions  by  means  of  which 
the  cells  are  to  be  stocked. 

The  galleries  are  ready  in  a  few  days, 
especially  as  those  of  the  previous  year  are 
employed  with  the  aid  of  a  few  repairs.  The 
other  Cerceres,  so  far  as  I  know,  have  no 
fixed  home,  no  family  inheritance  handed 
down  from  generation  to  generation.  A  regu- 
lar gipsy  tribe,  they  settle  singly  wherever 
the  chances  of  their  vagrant  life  may  lead 
them,  provided  that  the  soil  suits  them.  But 
the  Great  Cerceris  is  faithful  to  her  house- 
hold gods.  The  overhanging  blade  of  sand- 
stone that  sheltered  her  predecessors  is 
adopted  by  her  in  her  turn;  she  digs  in  the 
same  layer  of  sand  wherein  her  forbears  dug; 
and,  adding  her  own  labours  to  those  which 
went  before,  she  obtains  deep  retreats  that 
are  not  always  easy  of  inspection.  The  dia- 
meter of  the  galleries  is  wide  enough  to  ad- 
mit a  man's  thumb;  and  the  insect  moves 
about  in  them  readily,  even  when  laden  with 
the  prey  which  we  shall  see  it  capture.  Their 
direction,  at  first  horizontal  to  a  depth  of  four 
to  eight  inches,  describes  a  sudden  bend  and 
dips  more  or  less  obliquely  now  to  this  side, 
now  to  that.  With  the  exception  of  the  hori- 
23 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

zontal  part  and  the  bend,  the  direction  of  the 
rest  of  the  tube  seems  to  be  regulated  by  the 
difficulties  presented  by  the  ground,  as  is 
proved  by  the  twists  and  turns  observed  in  the 
more  distant  portion.  The  total  length  of 
the  shaft  attains  as  much  as  eighteen  inches. 
At  the  far  end  of  the  tube  are  the  cells,  few 
in  number  and  each  provisioned  with  five  or 
six  corpses  of  the  Beetle  order.  But  let  us 
leave  these  building-details  and  come  to  facts 
more  capable  of  exciting  our  admiration. 

The  victim  which  the  Cerceris  chooses 
whereon  to  feed  her  grubs  is  a  large-sized 
Weevil,  Cleonus  ophthalmicus.  We  see  the 
kidnapper  arrive  heavily  laden,  carrying  her 
victim  between  her  legs,  body  to  body,  head 
to  head,  and  plump  down  at  some  distance 
from  her  hole,  to  complete  the  rest  of  the 
journey  without  the  aid  of  her  wings.  The 
Wasp  is  now  dragging  her  prey  in  her  mandi- 
bles up  a  vertical,  or  at  least  a  very  steep  sur- 
face, productive  of  frequent  tumbles  which 
send  kidnapper  and  kidnapped  rolling  helter- 
skelter  to  the  bottom,  but  incapable  of  dis- 
couraging the  indefatigable  mother,  who, 
covered  with  dirt  and  dust,  ends  by  diving 
into  the  burrow  with  her  booty,  which  she 
has  not  let  go  for  a  single  moment.  Whereas 
24 


The  Great  Cerceris 

the  Cerceris  finds  it  far  from  easy  to  walk 
with  such  a  burden,  especially  on  ground  of 
this  character,  it  is  a  different  matter  when 
she  is  flying,  which  she  does  with  a  vigour 
that  astonishes  us  when  we  consider  that  the 
sturdy  little  creature  is  carrying  a  prize  al- 
most as  large  as  herself  and  heavier.  I  had 
the  curiosity  to  compare  the  weight  of  the 
Cerceris  and  her  victim:  the  first  turned  the 
scale  at  150  milligrammes; 1  the  second  aver- 
aged 250  milligrammes,2  or  nearly  double. 

These  figures  are  eloquent  of  the  powers 
of  the  huntress,  nor  did  I  ever  weary  of  ad- 
miring the  nimbleness  and  ease  with  which 
she  resumed  her  flight,  with  the  game  between 
her  legs,  and  rose  to  a  height  at  which  I  lost 
sight  of  her  whenever,  tracked  too  close  by 
my  indiscretion,  she  resolved  to  flee  in  order 
to  save  her  precious  booty.  But  she  did  not 
always  fly  away;  and  I  would  then  succeed, 
not  without  difficulty,  lest  I  should  hurt  her, 
in  making  her  drop  her  prey  by  worrying  her 
and  rolling  her  over.  I  would  then  seize  the 
Weevil;  and  the  Cerceris,  thus  despoiled, 
would  hunt  about  here  and  there,  enter  her 
lair  for  a  moment  and  soon  come  out  again 

1 .00528   oz.   av. — Translator's  Note. 
2,oo88    oz.    av. — Translator's  Note. 

25 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

to  fly  off  on  a  fresh  chase.  In  less  than  ten 
minutes,  the  skilled  huntress  had  fouad  a  new 
victim,  performed  the  murder  and  accom- 
plished the  rape,  which  I  often  allowed  my- 
self to  turn  to  my  own  profit.  Eight  times  in 
succession  I  have  committed  the  same  rob- 
bery at  the  expense  of  the  same  Wasp;  eight 
times,  with  unshaken  consistency,  she  has 
recommenced  her  fruitless  expedition.  Her 
patience  outwore  mine;  and  I  left  her  in  un- 
disturbed possession  of  her  ninth  capture. 

By  this  means,  or  by  violating  cells  already 
provisioned,  I  procured  close  upon  a  hundred 
Weevils;  and,  notwithstanding  what  I  was 
entitled  to  expect  from  what  Leon  Dufour 
has  told  us  of  the  habits  of  the  Buprestis- 
hunting  Cerceris,  I  could  not  repress  my  sur- 
prise at  the  sight  of  the  singular  collection 
which  I  had  made.  Whereas  the  Buprestis- 
slayer,  while  confining  herself  to  one  genus, 
passes  indiscriminately  from  one  species  to 
another,  the  more  exclusive  Great  Cerceris 
preys  invariably  on  the  same  species,  Cleonus 
ophthalmicus .  When  going  through  my  bag, 
I  came  upon  but  one  exception  and  even  that 
belonged  to  a  kindred  species,  Cleonus  alter- 
nans,  a  species  which  I  never  saw  again  in 
my  frequent  visits  to  the  Cerceris.  Later  re- 
26 


The  Great  Cerceris 

searches  supplied  me  with  a  second  exception, 
in  the  shape  of  Bothynoderus  albidus;  and 
that  is  all.  Is  this  predilection  for  a  single 
species  adequately  explained  by  the  greater 
flavour  and  succulence  of  the  prey?  Do  the 
grubs  find  in  this  monotonous  diet  juices 
which  suit  them  and  which  they  would  not 
find  elsewhere?  I  do  not  think  so;  and,  if 
Leon  Dufour's  Cerceris  hunts  every  sort  of 
Buprestis  without  distinction,  this  is  doubtless 
because  all  the  Buprestes  possess  the  same 
nutritive  properties.  But  this  must  be  gen- 
erally the  case  with  the  Weevils  also:  their 
nourishing  qualities  must  be  identical;  and 
then  this  surprising  choice  becomes  only  a 
question  of  size  and  consequently  of  economy 
of  labour  and  time.  Our  Cerceris,  the  mam- 
moth of  her  race,  tackles  the  Ophthalmic  Cle- 
onus  by  preference  because  this  Weevil  is  the 
largest  in  our  district  and  perhaps  also  the 
commonest.  But,  if  her  favourite  prey 
should  fail,  she  must  fall  back  upon  other 
species,  even  though  they  be  smaller,  as  is 
proved  by  the  two  exceptions  stated. 

Besides,  she  is  far  from  being  the  only  one 

to  go  hunting  at  the  expense  of  the  snouted 

clan,   the  Weevils.     Many  other   Cerceres, 

according  to  their  size,  their  strength  and  the 

27 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

accidents  of  the  chase,  capture  Weevils  vary- 
ing infinitely  in  genus,  species,  shape  and  di- 
mensions. It  has  long  been  known  that  Cer- 
ceris  arenaria  feeds  her  grubs  on  similar  pro- 
visions. I  myself  have  encountered  in  her 
lairs  Sitona  lineata,  S.  tibialis,  Cneorinus  his- 
pidus,  Brachyderes  gracilis,  Geonemus  flabel- 
lipes  and  Otiorhynchus  maleficus.  Cerceris 
aurita  is  known  to  make  her  booty  of  Otio- 
rhyncus  raucus  and  Phynotomus  punctatus. 
The  larder  of  Cerceris  Ferreri  has  shown  me 
the  following:  Phynotomus  murinus,  P.  punc- 
tatus, Sitona  lineata,  Cneorinus  hispidus, 
Rhynchites  betuleti.  The  last,  who  rolls 
vine-leaves  in  the  shape  of  cigars,  is  some- 
times a  superb  steel-blue  and  more  ordinarily 
shines  with  a  splendid  golden  copper.  I  have 
found  as  many  as  seven  of  these  brilliant  in- 
sects victualling  a  single  cell;  and  the  gaudi- 
ness  of  the  little  subterranean  heap  might  al- 
most stand  comparison  with  the  jewels  buried 
by  the  Buprestis-huntress.  Other  species, 
notably  the  weaker,  go  in  for  lesser  game, 
whose  small  size  is  atoned  for  by  larger  num- 
bers. Thus  Cerceris  quadricincta  stacks  quite 
thirty  specimens  of  Apion  gravidum  in  each 
of  her  cells,  without  disdaining  on  occasion 
such  larger  Weevils  as  Sitona  lineata  and 
28 


The  Great  Cerceris 

Phynotomus  murmus.  A  similar  provision 
of  small  species  falls  to  the  share  of  Cerceris 
labiata.  Lastly,  the  smallest  Cerceris  in  my 
district,  Cerceris  Julii,1  chases  the  tiniest 
Weevils,  Apion  gravidum  and  Bruchus  gra- 
narius,  victims  proportioned  to  the  diminutive 
huntress.  To  finish  with  this  list  of  game, 
let  us  add  that  a  few  Cerceres  observe  other 
gastronomic  laws  and  raise  their  families  on 
Hymenoptera.  One  of  these  is  Cerceris  or- 
nata.  We  will  dismiss  these  tastes  as  for- 
eign to  the  subject  in  hand. 

Of  the  eight  species  then  of  Cerceres  whose 
provisions  consist  of  Beetles,  seven  adopt  a 
diet  of  Weevils  and  one  a  diet  of  Buprestes. 
For  what  singular  reasons  are  the  depreda- 
tions of  these  Wasps  confined  to  such  narrow 
limits?  What  are  the  motives  for  this  ex- 
clusive choice?  What  inward  likeness  can 
there  be  between  the  Buprestes  and  the  Wee- 
vils, outwardly  so  entirely  dissimilar,  that 
they  should  both  become  the  food  of  kindred 
carnivorous  grubs?  Beyond  a  doubt,  there 
are  differences  of  flavour  between  this  victim 
and  that,  nutritive  differences  which  the  larvae 
are  well  able  to  appreciate;  but  some  graver 

1For    a    description   of   this    species,   which   is   ne.w   tQ 
entomology,  see  the  Appendix.— Autfior'f  Note, 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

reason  must  overrule  all  such  gastronomic 
considerations  and  cause  these  curious  predi- 
lections. 

After  all  the  admirable  things  that  have 
been  said  by  Leon  Dufour  upon  the  long  and 
wonderful  preservation  of  the  insects  destined 
for  the  flesh-eating  larvae,  it  is  almost  need- 
less to  add  that  the  Weevils,  both  those  whom 
I  dug  up  and  those  whom  I  took  from  be- 
tween the  legs  of  their  kidnappers,  were  al- 
ways in  a  perfect  state  of  preservation, 
though  deprived  for  ever  of  the  power  of 
motion.  Freshness  of  colour,  flexibility  of 
the  membranes  and  the  lesser  joints,  normal 
condition  of  the  viscera :  all  these  combine  to 
make  you  doubt  that  the  lifeless  body  before 
your  eyes  is  really  a  corpse,  all  the  more  as 
even  with  the  magnifying-glass  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  perceive  the  smallest  wound;  and,  in 
spite  of  yourself,  you  are  every  moment  ex- 
pecting to  see  the  insect  move  and  walk. 
Nay  more :  in  a  heat  which,  in  a  few  hours, 
would  have  dried  and  pulverized  insects  that 
had  died  an  ordinary  death,  or  in  damp 
weather,  which  would  just  as  quickly  have 
made  them  decay  and  go  mouldy,  I  have  kept 
the  same  specimens,  both  in  glass  tubes  and 
paper  bags,  for  more  than  a  month,  without 
30 


The  Great  Cerceris 

precautions  of  any  kind;  and,  incredible 
though  it  may  sound,  after  this  enormous 
lapse  of  time  the  viscera  had  lost  none  of 
their  freshness  and  dissection  was  as  easily 
performed  as  though  I  were  operating  on  a 
live  insect.  No,  in  the  presence  of  such  facts, 
we  cannot  speak  of  the  action  of  an  antiseptic 
and  believe  in  a  real  death:  life  is  still  there, 
latent,  passive  life,  the  life  of  a  vegetable. 
It  alone,  resisting  yet  a  little  while  longer  the 
all-conquering  chemical  forces,  can  thus  pre- 
serve the  structure  from  decomposition. 
Life  is  still  there,  except  for  movement;  and 
we  have  before  our  eyes  a  marvel  such  as 
chloroform  or  ether  might  produce,  a  marvel 
which  owes  its  origin  to  the  mysterious  laws 
of  the  nervous  system. 

The  functions  of  this  vegetative  life  are  no 
doubt  enfeebled  and  disturbed;  but  at  any 
rate  they  are  exercised  in  a  lethargic  fashion. 
I  have  as  a  proof  the  evacuation  performed 
by  the  Weevils  normally  and  at  intervals 
during  the  first  week  of  this  deep  slumber, 
which  will  be  followed  by  no  awakening  and 
which  nevertheless  is  not  yet  death.  It  does 
not  cease  until  the  intestines  are  emptied  of 
their  contents,  as  shown  by  autopsy.  Nor 
do  the  faint  glimmers  of  life  which  the  insect 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

still  manifests  stop  at  that;  and,  though  irri- 
tability of  the  organs  seems  annihilated  for 
good,  I  have  nevertheless  succeeded  in  arous- 
ing slight  signs  of  it.  Having  placed  some 
recently  exhumed  and  absolutely  motionless 
Weevils  in  a  bottle  containing  sawdust  moist- 
ened with  a  few  drops  of  benzine,  I  was  not  a 
little  astonished  to  see  their  legs  and  antennae 
moving  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later.  For  a 
moment  I  thought  that  I  could  recall  them  to 
life.  Vain  hopel  Those  movements,  the 
last  traces  of  a  susceptibility  about  to  be  ex- 
tinguished, soon  cease  and  cannot  be  excited 
a  second  time.  I  have  tried  this  experiment 
in  some  cases  a  few  hours  after  the  murderous 
blow,  in  others  as  late  as  three  or  four  days 
after  and  always  with  the  same  success. 
Still,  the  movement  is  feeble  in  proportion  to 
the  time  that  has  elapsed  since  the  fatal 
stroke.  It  always  spreads  from  front  to 
back:  the  antennae  first  wave  slowly  to  and 
fro;  then  the  front  tarsi  tremble  and  take 
part  in  the  oscillation;  next  the  tarsi  of  the 
second  pair  of  legs  and  lastly  those  of  the 
third  pair  hasten  to  do  likewise.  Once  move- 
ment sets  in,  these  different  appendages  exe- 
cute their  vibrations  without  any  order,  until 
the  whole  relapses  into  immobility,  which 
32 


The  Great  Cerceris 

happens  more  or  less  quickly.  Unless  the 
blow  has  been  dealt  quite  recently,  the  motion 
of  the  tarsi  extends  no  farther  and  the  legs 
remain  still. 

Ten  days  after  an  attack,  I  was  unable  to 
obtain  the  least  vestige  of  susceptibility  by 
the  above  process ;  and  I  then  had  recourse  to 
the  Voltaic  battery.  This  method  is  more 
powerful  and  provokes  muscular  contractions 
and  movements  where  the  benzine-vapour 
fails.  We  have  only  therefore  to  apply  the 
current  of  one  or  two  Bunsen  cells  through 
the  conductors  of  some  slender  needles. 
Thrusting  the  point  of  one  under  the  farthest 
ring  of  the  abdomen  and  the  point  of  the 
other  under  the  neck,  we  obtain,  each  time  the 
current  is  established,  not  only  a  quivering  of 
the  tarsi,  but  a  strong  reflexion  of  the  legs, 
which  draw  up  under  the  abdomen  and  then 
straighten  out  when  the  current  is  turned  off. 
These  flutterings,  which  are  very  energetic 
during  the  first  few  days,  gradually  diminish 
in  intensity  and  appear  no  more  after  a  cer- 
tain time.  On  the  tenth  day,  I  have  still  ob- 
tained perceptible  movements;  on  the  fif- 
teenth day,  the  battery  was  powerless  to  pro- 
voke them,  despite  the  suppleness  of  the  limbs 
and  the  freshness  of  the  viscera.  To  effect 
33 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

a  comparison,  I  subjected  to  the  action  of  the 
Voltaic  pile  Beetles  really  dead,  Cellar- 
beetles,  Saperdae  and  Lamiae,  asphyxiated 
with  benzine  or  sulphuric  acid  gas.  Two 
hours  at  most  after  the  asphyxiation,  it  was 
impossible  for  me  to  provoke  the  movements 
so  easily  obtained  in  Weevils  who  have  al- 
ready for  several  days  been  in  that  curious 
intermediate  state  between  life  and  death  into 
which  their  formidable  enemy  plunges  them. 

All  these  facts  are  opposed  to  the  idea  of 
something  completely  dead,  to  the  theory 
that  we  have  here  a  veritable  corpse  which 
has  become  incorruptible  by  the  action  of  a 
preservative  fluid.  They  can  be  explained 
only  by  admitting  that  the  insect  is  smitten  in 
the  very  origin  and  mainspring  of  its  move- 
ments; that  its  susceptibility,  suddenly  be- 
numbed, dies  out  slowly,  while  the  more  te- 
nacious vegetative  functions  die  still  more 
slowly  and  keep  the  intestines  in  a  state  of 
preservation  for  the  space  of  time  required 
by  the  larvae. 

The  particular  thing  which  it  was  most 
important  to  ascertain  was  the  manner  in 
which  the  murder  is  committed.  It  is  quite 
evident  that  the  chief  part  in  this  must  be 
played  by  the  Cerceris'  venom-laden  sting. 
34 


The  Great  Cerceris 

But  where  and  how  does  it  enter  the  Weevil's 
body,  which  is  covered  with  a  hard  and  well- 
riveted  cuirass?  In  the  various  insects 
pierced  by  the  assassin's  dart,  nothing,  even 
under  the  magnifying-glass,  betrayed  her 
method.  It  became  a  matter,  therefore,  of 
discovering  the  murderous  manoeuvres  of  the 
Wasp  by  direct  observation,  a  problem  whose 
difficulties  had  made  Leon  Dufour  recoil  and 
whose  solution  seemed  to  me  for  a  time  undis- 
coverable.  I  tried,  however,  and  had  the 
satisfaction  of  succeeding,  though  not  with- 
out some  preliminary  groping. 

When  flying  from  their  caverns,  intent 
upon  the  chase,  the  Cerceres  would  take 
any  direction  indifferently,  turning  now  this 
way,  now  that;  and  they  would  come  back, 
laden  with  their  prey,  from  all  quar- 
ters. Every  part  of  the  neighbourhood 
must  therefore  have  been  explored  with- 
out distinction;  but,  as  the  huntresses  were 
hardly  more  than  ten  minutes  in  coming 
and  going,  the  radius  worked  could  not  be 
one  of  great  extent,  especially  when  we  allow 
for  the  time  necessary  for  the  insect  to  dis- 
cover its  prey,  to  attack  it  and  to  reduce  it  to 
an  inert  mass.  I  therefore  set  myself  to 
inspect  the  adjacent  ground  with  every  pos- 
35 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

sible  attention,  in  the  hope  of  finding  a  few 
Cerceres  engaged  in  hunting.  An  afternoon 
devoted  to  this  thankless  task  ended  by  per- 
suading me  of  the  futility  of  my  quest  and  of 
the  small  chance  which  I  had  of  catching  in 
the  act  a  few  scarce  huntresses,  scattered  here 
and  there  and  soon  lost  to  view  through  the 
swiftness  of  their  flight,  especially  on  difficult 
ground,  thickly  planted  with  vines  and  olive- 
trees.  I  abandoned  the  attempt. 

By  myself  bringing  live  Weevils  into  the 
vicinity  of  the  nests,  might  I  not  tempt  the 
Cerceres  with  a  victim  all  ready  to  hand  and 
thus  witness  the  desired  tragedy?  The  idea 
seemed  a  good  one ;  and  the  very  next  morn- 
ing I  went  off  in  search  of  live  specimens  of 
Cleonus  ophthalmicus.  Vineyards,  cornfields, 
lucerne-crops,  hedges,  stone-heaps,  road- 
sides: I  visited  and  inspected  one  and  all; 
and,  after  two  mortal  days  of  minute  investi- 
gation, I  was  the  possessor  —  dare  I  say 
it?  —  I  was  the  possessor  of  three  Weevils, 
flayed,  covered  with  dust,  minus  antennae  or 
tarsi,  maimed  veterans  whom  the  Cerceres 
would  perhaps  refuse  to  look  at!  Many 
years  have  passed  since  the  days  of  that 
fevered  quest  when,  bathed  in  sweat,  I  made 
those  wild  expeditions,  all  for  a  Weevil;  and, 
36 


The  Great  Cerceris 

despite  my  almost  daily  entomological  ex- 
plorations, I  am  still  ignorant  how  and  where 
the  celebrated  Cleonus  lives,  though  I  meet 
him  occasionally,  roaming  on  the  edge  of  the 
paths.  O  wonderful  power  of  instinct !  In 
the  selfsame  places  and  in  a  mere  fraction  of 
time,  our  Wasps  would  have  found  by  the 
hundred  these  insects  undiscoverable  by  man; 
and  they  would  have  found  them  fresh  and 
glossy,  doubtless  just  issued  from  their 
nymphal  cocoons  1 

No  matter,  let  us  see  what  we  can  do  with 
my  pitiful  bag.  A  Cerceris  has  just  entered 
her  gallery  with  her  usual  prey;  before  she 
comes  out  again  for  a  new  expedition,  I  place 
a  Weevil  a  few  inches  from  the  hole.  The 
insect  moves  about;  when  it  strays  too  far,  I 
restore  it  to  its  position.  At  last,  the 
Cerceris  shows  her  wide  face  and  emerges 
from  the  hole;  my  heart  beats  with  excite- 
ment. The  Wasp  stalks  about  the  ap- 
proaches to  her  home  for  a  few  moments, 
sees  the  Weevil,  brushes  against  him,  turns 
round,  passes  several  times  over  his  back  and 
flies  away  without  honouring  my  capture  with 
a  touch  of  her  mandibles:  the  capture  which 
I  was  at  such  pains  to  acquire.  I  am  con- 
founded, I  am  floored.  Fresh  attempts  at 
37 


390391 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

other  holes  lead  to  fresh  disappointments. 
Clearly,  these  dainty  sportswomen  will  have 
none  of  the  game  which  I  offer  them.  Per- 
haps they  find  it  uninteresting,  not  fresh 
enough.  Perhaps,  by  taking  it  in  my  fingers, 
I  have  given  it  some  odour  which  they  dis- 
like. With  these  epicures,  a  mere  alien  touch 
is  enough  to  produce  disgust. 

Should  I  be  more  fortunate  if  I  obliged 
the  Cerceris  to  use  her  sting  in  self-defence? 
I  enclosed  a  Cerceris  and  a  Cleonus  in  the 
same  bottle  and  stirred  them  up  by  shaking 
it.  The  Wasp,  with  her  sensitive  nature, 
was  more  impressed  than  the  other  prisoner, 
with  his  dull  and  clumsy  organization;  she 
thought  of  flight,  not  of  attack.  The  very 
parts  were  interchanged:  the  Weevil,  becom- 
ing the  aggressor,  at  times  seized  with  his 
snout  a  leg  of  his  mortal  enemy,  who  was  so 
greatly  overcome  with  fear  that  she  did  not 
even  seek  to  defend  herself.  I  was  at  the 
end  of  my  resources;  yet  my  wish  to  behold 
the  catastrophe  was  but  increased  by  the  dif- 
ficulties already  experienced.  Well,  I  would 
try  again. 

A  bright  idea  flashed  across  my  mind, 
entering  so  naturally  into  the  very  heart  of 
the  question  that  it  brought  hope  in  its  train. 
38 


The  Great  Cerceris 

Yes,  that  must  be  it;  the  thing  was  bound  to 
succeed.  I  must  offer  my  scorned  game  to 
the  Cerceris  in  the  heat  of  the  chase.  Then, 
carried  away  by  her  absorbing  preoccupation, 
she  would  not  perceive  its  imperfections. 

I  have  already  said  that,  on  her  return 
from  hunting,  the  Cerceris  alights  at  the  foot 
of  the  slope,  at  some  distance  from  the  hole, 
whither  she  laboriously  drags  her  prey.  It 
became  a  matter  therefore  of  robbing  her  of 
her  victim  by  drawing  it  away  by  one  foot 
with  my  forceps  and  at  once  throwing  her 
the  live  Weevil  in  exchange.  The  trick  suc- 
ceeded to  perfection.  As  soon  as  the 
Cerceris  felt  her  prey  slip  from  under  her 
belly  and  escape  her,  she  tapped  the  ground 
impatiently  with  her  feet,  turned  round  and, 
perceiving  the  Weevil  that  had  taken  the 
place  of  her  own,  flung  herself  upon  him  and 
clasped  him  in  her  legs  to  carry  him  away. 
But  she  soon  became  aware  that  her  prey  was 
alive;  and  now  the  tragedy  began,  only  to 
end  with  inconceivable  rapidity.  The  Wasp 
faced  her  victim  and,  gripping  its  snout  with 
her  powerful  mandibles,  soon  had  it  at  her 
mercy.  Then,  while  the  Weevil  reared  on 
his  six  legs,  the  other  pressed  her  forefeet  vio- 
lently on  his  back,  as  if  to  force  open  some 
39 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

ventral  joint.  I  next  saw  the  assassin's  abdo- 
men slip  under  the  Cleonus'  belly,  bend  into  a 
curve  and  dart  its  poisoned  lancet  briskly, 
two  or  three  times,  into  the  joint  of  the  pro- 
thorax,  between  the  first  and  second  pairs  of 
legs.  All  was  over  in  a  moment.  Without 
the  least  convulsive  movement,  without  any 
of  that  stretching  of  the  limbs  which  accom- 
panies an  animal's  death,  the  victim  fell 
motionless  for  all  time,  as  though  struck  by 
lightning.  It  was  terribly  and  at  the  same 
time  wonderfully  quick.  The  murderess 
next  turned  the  body  on  its  back,  placed  her- 
self belly  to  belly  with  it,  with  her  legs  on 
either  side,  clasped  it  and  flew  away.  Thrice 
over  I  renewed  the  experiment,  with  my  three 
Weevils;  and  the  process  never  varied. 

Of  course  I  gave  the  Cerceris  back  her  first 
prey  each  time  and  withdrew  my  own  Cleonus 
to  examine  him  at  my  leisure.  The  in- 
spection but  confirmed  my  high  opinion  of 
the  assassin's  formidable  skill.  It  was  im- 
possible to  perceive  the  least  sign  of  a  wound, 
the  slightest  flow  of  vital  fluid  at  the  point 
attacked.  But  what  was  most  striking  — 
and  justly  so  —  was  the  prompt  and  com- 
plete annihilation  of  all  movement.  Im- 
mediately after  the  murder,  I  sought  in  vain 
40 


The  Great  Cerceris 

for  traces  of  irritability  of  the  organs  in  the 
three  Weevils  dispatched  before  my  eyes: 
those  traces  were  never  revealed,  whether  I 
pinched  or  pricked  the  insect;  and  it  required 
the  artificial  means  described  above  to  pro- 
voke them.  Thus,  these  powerful  Cleoni, 
which,  if  pierced  alive  with  a  pin  and  fixed 
on  the  insect-collector's  fatal  sheet  of  cork, 
would  have  kicked  and  struggled  for  days  and 
weeks,  nay,  for  whole  months  on  end, 
instantly  lose  all  power  of  movement  from 
the  effect  of  a  tiny  prick  which  inoculates 
them  with  an  invisible  drop  of  venom.  But 
chemistry  has  no  poison  so  potent  in  so  minute 
a  dose;  prussic  acid  would*  hardly  produce 
those  effects,  if  indeed  it  can  produce  them  at 
all.  It  is  not  to  toxology  then,  surely,  but  to 
physiology  and  anatomy  that  we  must  turn  to 
grasp  the  cause  of  this  instantaneous  an- 
nihilation; and  to  understand  these  marvel- 
lous happenings  we  must  consider  not  so  much 
the  intense  strength  of  the  poison  injected  as 
the  importance  of  the  organ  injured. 

What  is  there  then  at  the  point  where  the 
sting  enters? 


CHAPTER  III 

A   SCIENTIFIC   SLAUGHTERER 

THE  Wasp  has  told  us  part  of  her  secret 
by  showing  us  the  spot  which  her  sting 
touches.  Does  this  solve  the  question? 
Not  yet,  nor  by  a  long  way.  Let  us  go  back 
for  a  moment,  forget  what  the  insect  has  just 
taught  us  and,  in  our  turn,  set  ourselves  the 
problem  of  the  Cerceris.  The  problem  is 
this:  to  store  underground,  in  a  cell,  a  big 
enough  pile  of  game  to  feed  the  larva  which 
will  be  hatched  from  the  egg  laid  on  the  heap. 
At  first  sight,  this  victualling  seems  simple 
enough;  but  a  little  reflection  shows  that  it  is 
attended  by  very  grave  difficulties.  Our  own 
game,  for  instance,  is  brought  down  by  a  shot 
from  a  gun ;  it  is  killed  with  horrible  wounds. 
The  Wasp  has  refinements  of  taste  unknown 
to  us:  she  must  have  the  prey  intact,  with  all 
its  elegance  of  form  and  colouring,  no  broken 
limbs,  no  gaping  wounds,  no  hideous  disem- 
bowelling. Her  victim  has  all  the  freshness 
of  the  live  insect;  it  retains,  without  the  loss 
of  a  single  speck,  that  fine  tinted  bloom  which 
42 


A  Scientific  Slaughterer 

is  destroyed  by  the  mere  contact  of  our 
fingers.  If  the  insect  were  dead,  if  it  were 
really  a  corpse,  how  great  would  be  our  dif- 
ficulty in  obtaining  a  like  result !  Each  of  us 
can  kill  an  insect  by  brutally  crushing  it  under 
foot;  but  to  kill  it  neatly,  with  no  sign  of 
injury,  is  not  an  easy  operation,  is  not  an 
operation  which  any  one  can  perform.  How 
many  would  be  utterly  perplexed  if  they  were 
called  upon  to  kill,  then  and  there,  without 
crushing  it,  a  hardy  little  insect  which,  even 
when  you  cut  off  its  head,  goes  on  struggling 
for  a  long  time  after!  One  has  to  be  a  prac- 
tical entomologist  to  think  of  the  various 
ways  of  asphyxiation;  and  even  here  success 
would  be  doubtful  with  primitive  methods, 
such  as  the  fumes  of  benzine,  or  burning 
sulphur.  In  this  unwholesome  atmosphere, 
the  insect  flounders  about  too  long  and  loses 
its  glory.  We  must  have  recourse  to  more 
heroic  measures,  such  as  the  terrible  exhala- 
tions of  prussic  acid  emanating  slowly  from 
strips  of  paper  steeped  in  cyanide  of  potas- 
sium, or  else  and  better  still,  as  being  free 
from  danger  to  the  insect-hunter,  the  all- 
powerful  fumes  of  bisulphide  of  carbon.  It 
is  quite  an  art,  you  see  —  and  an  art  which 
has  to  call  to  its  aid  the  formidable  arsenal 
43 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

of  chemistry  —  to  kill  an  insect  neatly,  to  do 
what  the  Cerceris  performs  so  quickly  and  so 
prettily,  that  is,  if  we  are  stupid  enough  to 
assume  that  her  captured  prey  actually  be- 
comes a  corpse. 

A  corpse!  But  that  is  by  no  means  the 
fare  prescribed  for  the  larvae,  those  little 
ogres  clamouring  for  fresh  meat,  whom  game 
ever  so  slightly  high  would  inspire  with  insur- 
mountable disgust.  They  want  meat  killed 
that  day,  with  no  suspicion  of  taint,  the  first 
sign  of  corruption.  Nevertheless,  the  prey 
cannot  be  packed  into  the  cell  alive,  as  we 
pack  the  cattle  destined  to  furnish  fresh  meat 
for  the  passengers  and  crew  of  a  ship. 
What  indeed  would  become  of  the  delicate 
egg  laid  among  live  provisions?  What 
would  become  of  the  feeble  larva,  a  tiny  grub 
which  the  least  touch  would  bruise,  among 
lusty  Beetles  who  would  go  on  kicking  for 
weeks  with  their  long,  spurred  legs?  We 
need  here  two  things  which  seem  utterly  ir- 
reconcilable: the  immobility  of  death  com- 
bined with  the  sweet  wholesomeness  of  life. 
Before  such  a  dietetic  problem,  the  most 
deeply  read  layman  would  stand  powerless; 
the  practical  entomologist  himself  would  own 
44 


A  Scientific  Slaughterer 

himself  beaten.     The  Cerceris'  larder  would 
defy  their  reasoning-power. 

Let  us  then  suppose  an  academy  of  ana- 
tomists and  physiologists;  let  us  imagine  a 
congress  at  which  the  question  is  raised 
among  such  men  as  Flourens,1  Magendie  2 
and  Claude  Bernard.3  If  we  want  to  obtain 
both  complete  immobility  of  the  victim  and 
also  its  preservation  during  a  long  period 
without  going  bad,  the  simplest  and  most 
natural  idea  which  comes  to  us  is  that  of 
tinned  foods.  Our  congress  would  suggest 
the  use  of  some  preserving  liquid,  just  as  the 
famous  Landes  scientist  did  when  he  was  con- 
fronted with  his  Buprestes;  they  would  at- 
tribute exquisite  antiseptic  virtues  to  the 
Wasp's  poison-fluid;  but  these  strange  virtues 
would  still  remain  to  be  proved.  And  per- 
haps the  conclusion  of  that  learned  assembly, 

1Marie  Jean  Pierre  Flourens  (1794-1867),  the  cele- 
brated French  physiologist,  appointed  perpetual  secre- 
tary of  the  Academy  of  Science  in  1833  and  a  member  of 
the  French  Academy. —  Translator's  Note. 

2Franc.ois  Magendie  (1783-1855),  professor  of  anatomy 
in  the  College  de  France,  noted  for  his  experiments  on 
the  physiology  of  the  nerves. —  Translator's  Note. 

3Claude  Bernard  (1813-1878),  another  distinguished 
French  physiologist  and  perhaps  the  most  famous  repre- 
sentative of  experimental  science  in  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury.—  Translator's  Note. 

45 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

like  the  conclusion  of  the  sage  of  the  Landes, 
would  be  a  purely  gratuitous  supposition 
which  would  simply  substitute  one  unknown 
quantity  for  another,  giving  us  in  the  place  of 
the  mystery  of  those  uncorrupted  tissues  the 
mystery  of  that  wonderful  preserving  fluid. 

If  we  insist,  if  we  point  out  that  the  larvae 
need,  not  preserved  food,  which  could  never 
possess  the  properties  of  still  palpitating 
flesh,  but  something  that  shall  be  just  as  if  it 
were  live  prey,  despite  its  complete  inertia, 
the  learned  congress,  after  due  reflection,  will 
fix  on  paralysis: 

"  Yes,  that's  it,  of  course  I  The  creature 
must  be  paralysed;  it  must  be  deprived  of 
movement,  without  being  deprived  of  life." 

There  is  only  one  way  of  achieving  this 
result:  to  injure,  cut  or  destroy  the  insect's 
nervous  system  in  one  or  more  skilfully- 
selected  places.  But,  even  at  that  stage,  if 
left  in  hands  unfamiliar  with  the  anatomical 
secrets  of  a  delicate  organism,  the  question 
would  not  have  advanced  much  farther. 
What  in  fact  is  the  disposition  of  this  nervous 
system  which  has  to  be  smitten  if  we  would 
paralyse  the  insect  without  at  the  same  time 
killing  it?  And,  first  of  all,  where  is  it?  In 
the  head,  no  doubt,  and  down  the  back,  like 
46 


A  Scientific  Slaughterer 

the  brain  and  the  spinal  marrow  of  the  higher 
animals. 

"  You  make  a  grave  mistake,"  our  con- 
gress would  say.  "  The  insect  is  like  an  in- 
verted animal,  walking  on  its  back;  that  is  to 
say,  instead  of  having  the  spinal  marrow  on 
the  top,  it  has  it  below,  along  the  breast  and 
the  belly.  The  operation  on  the  insect  to  be 
paralysed  must  therefore  be  performed  on 
the  lower  surface  and  on  that  surface  alone." 

This  difficulty  once  removed,  another 
arises,  equally  serious  in  a  different  way. 
Armed  with  his  scalpel,  the  anatomist  can 
direct  the  point  of  his  instrument  wherever  he 
thinks  fit,  in  spite  of  obstacles,  for  these  he 
can  eliminate.  The  Wasp,  on  the  contrary, 
has  no  choice.  Her  victim  is  a  Beetle  in  his 
stout  coat  of  mail;  her  lancet  is  her  sting,  an 
extremely  delicate  weapon  which  would 
inevitably  be  stopped  by  the  horny  armour. 
Only  a  few  points  are  accessible  to  the  fragile 
implement,  namely,  the  joints,  which  are  pro- 
tected merely  by  an  unresisting  membrane. 
Moreover,  the  joints  of  the  limbs,  though 
vulnerable,  do  not  in  the  least  fulfil  the 
desired  conditions,  for  the  utmost  that  could 
be  obtained  by  means  of  them  would  be  a 
partial  paralysis  and  not  a  general  paralysis 
47 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

affecting  the  whole  of  the  motor  organism. 
Without  a  prolonged  struggle,  which  might 
be  fatal  to  the  patient,  without  repeated 
operations,  which,  if  too  numerous,  might 
jeopardize  the  Beetle's  life,  the  Wasp  has, 
if  possible,  to  suppress  all  power  of  move- 
ment at  one  blow.  It  is  essential  therefore 
that  she  should  aim  her  sting  at  the  nervous 
centres,  the  seat  of  the  motor  faculties, 
whence  radiate  the  nerves  scattered  over  the 
several  organs  of  movement.  Now  these 
sources  of  locomotion,  these  nervous  centres, 
consist  of  a  certain  number  of  nuclei  or 
ganglia,  more  numerous  in  the  larva,  less 
numejous  in  the  perfect  insect  and  arranged 
along  the  median  line  of  the  lower  surface  in 
a  string  of  beads  more  or  less  distant  one 
from  the  other  and  connected  by  a  double 
ribbon  of  the  nerve-substance.  In  all  the 
insects  in  the  perfect  state,  the  so-called 
thoracic  ganglia,  that  is  to  say,  those  which 
supply  nerves  to  the  wings  and  legs  and  go- 
vern their  movements,  are  three  in  number. 
These  are  the  points  to  be  struck.  If  their 
action  can  be  destroyed,  no  matter  how,  the 
power  of  movement  will  be  destroyed  like- 
wise. 

There  are  two  methods  of  reaching  these 
48 


A  Scientific  Slaughterer 

motor  centres  with  the  Wasp's  feeble  instru- 
ment, the  sting:  through  the  joint  between  the 
neck  and  the  corselet;  and  through  the  joint 
between  the  corselet  and  the  rest  of  the 
thorax,  in  short,  between  the  first  and  second 
pair  of  legs.  The  way  through  the  joint  of 
the  neck  is  hardly  suitable :  it  is  too  far  from 
the  ganglia,  which  are  near  the  base  of  the 
legs  which  they  endow  with  movement.  It 
is  at  the  other  point  and  there  alone  that  the 
blow  must  be  struck.  That  would  be  the 
opinion  of  the  academy  in  which  the  Claude 
Bernards  were  treating  the  question  in  the 
light  of  their  profound  knowledge.  And  it 
is  here,  just  here,  between  the  first  and  second 
pair  of  legs,  on  the  median  line  of  the  lower 
surface,  that  the  Wasp  inserts  her  dirk.  By 
what  expert  instinct  is  she  inspired? 

To  select,  as  the  spot  wherein  to  drive  her 
sting,  the  one  vulnerable  point,  the  point 
which  none  save  a  physiologist  versed  in 
insect  anatomy  could  determine  beforehand: 
even  that  is  far  from  being  enough.  The 
Wasp  has  a  much  greater  difficulty  to  sur- 
mount; and  she  surmounts  it  with  an  ease  that 
stupefies  us.  The  nerve-centres  governing 
the  locomotory  organs  of  the  insect  are,  we 
were  saying,  three  in  number.  They  are 
49 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

more  or  less  distant  from  one  another;  some- 
times, but  rarely,  they  are  close  together. 
Altogether  they  possess  a  certain  inde- 
pendence of  action,  so  that  an  injury  done 
to  any  one  of  them  induces,  at  any 
rate  for  the  moment,  the  paralysis  only 
of  the  limbs  that  correspond  with  it,  with- 
out affecting  the  other  ganglia  and  the 
limbs  which  they  control.  To  strike  in 
succession  these  three  motor  centres,  each 
farther  back  than  the  one  before  it,  and  to  do 
so  between  the  first  and  second  pair  of  legs 
seems  an  impracticable  operation  for  such  a 
weapon  as  the  Wasp's  sting,  which  is  too 
short  and  is  besides  very  difficult  to  guide 
under  such  conditions.  It  is  true  that  certain 
Beetles  have  the  three  ganglia  of  the  thorax 
very  near  together,  almost  touching,  while 
others  have  the  last  two  completely  united, 
soldered,  welded  together.  It  is  also  a. 
recognized  fact  that,  in  proportion  as  the  dif- 
ferent nervous  nuclei  tend  towards  a  closer 
combination  and  greater  centralization,  the 
characteristic  functions  of  animal  nature  be- 
come more  perfect  and  consequently,  alas, 
more  vulnerable.  Here  we  have  the  prey 
which  the  Cerceris  really  needs.  Those 
50 


A  Scientific  Slaughterer 

Beetles  with  motor  centres  brought  close 
together  or  even  gathered  into  a  common 
mass,  making  them  mutually  dependent  on 
one  another,  will  be  at  the  same  instant  para- 
lysed with  a  single  stroke  of  the  dagger;  or, 
if  several  strokes  be  needed,  the  ganglia  to  be 
stung  will  at  any  rate  all  be  there,  collected 
under  the  point  of  the  dart. 

Which  Beetles  are  they  then  that  constitute 
a  prey  so  eminently  convenient  for  paraly- 
sing? That  is  the  question.  The  lofty 
science  of  a  Claude  Bernard,  concerning  itself 
only  with  the  fundamental  generalities-  of 
organism  and  life,  would  not  suffice  here;  it 
could  never  tell  us  how  to  make  this  entomo- 
logical selection.  I  appeal  to  any  physiolo- 
gist under  whose  eyes  these  lines  may  come. 
Without  referring  to  his  library,  could  he 
name  the  Beetles  in  whom  that  centralization 
of  the  nervous  system  occurs;  and,  even  with 
the  aid  of  his  books,  would  he  at  once  know 
where  to  find  the  desired  information?  The 
fact  is  that,  with  these  minute  details,  we  are 
now  entering  the  domain  of  the  specialist;  we 
are  leaving  the  public  road  for  the  path 
known  to  the  few. 

I   find   the   necessary  information   in   M. 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

fimile  Blanchard's  fine  work  on  the  nervous 
system  of  the  Coleoptera.1  I  see  there  that 
this  centralization  of  the  nervous  system  is 
the  prerogative,  in  the  first  place,  of  the 
Scarabaeidae,  or  Chafers;  but  most  of  these 
are  too  large:  the  Cerceris  could  perhaps 
neither  attack  them  nor  carry  them  away;  be- 
sides, many  of  them  live  in  the  midst  of 
ordure  where  the  Wasp,  herself  so  cleanly, 
would  refuse  to  go  in  search  of  them. 
Motor  centres  very  close  together  are  found 
also  in  the  Histers,  who  live  on  carrion  and 
dung,  in  an  atmosphere  of  loathsome  smells, 
and  who  must  therefore  be  eliminated;  in  the 
Scolyti,  who  are  too  small;  and  lastly  in  the 
Buprestes  and  the  Weevils. 

What  an  unexpected  light  amid  the  original 
darkness  of  the  problem!  Among  the  im- 
mense number  of  Beetles  whereon  the 
Cerceres  might  seem  able  to  prey,  only  two 
groups,  the  Weevils  and  the  Buprestes,  fulfil 
the  indispensable  conditions.  They  live  far 
removed  from  stench  and  filth,  two  qualities 
perhaps  invincibly  repugnant  to  the  dainty 
huntress;  their  numerous  representatives  vary 
considerably  in  size,  in  much  the  same  way  as 

*Annales  des  sciences  naturelles,  Series  III.,  vol.  v. — 
Author's  Note. 

52 


A  Scientific  Slaughterer 

their  kidnappers,  who  can  thus  pick  and 
choose  the  victims  that  suit  them ;  they  are  far 
more  vulnerable  than  any  of  the  others  at 
the  one  point  where  the  Wasp's  dart  can  pene- 
trate, for  at  this  point  the  motor  centres  of 
the  feet  and  wings  are  crowded  together,  all 
easily  accessible  to  the  sting.  At  this  point, 
in  the  Weevils,  the  three  thoracic  ganglia  are 
very  close  together,  the  last  two  even  touch- 
ing; at  the  same  point,  in  the  Buprestes,  the 
second  and  third  are  mingled  in  one  large 
mass,  very  near  the  first.  And  it  is  just 
Buprestes  and  Weevils  that  we  see  hunted,  to 
the  absolute  exclusion  of  all  other  game,  by 
the  eight  species  of  Cerceres  whose  pro- 
visions have  been  found  to  consist  of  Beetles ! 
A  certain  inward  resemblance,  that  is  to  say, 
the  centralization  of  the  nervous  system,  must 
therefore  be  the  reason  why  the  lairs  of  the 
different  Cerceres  are  crammed  with  victims 
bearing  no  outward  resemblance  whatever. 
The  most  exalted  knowledge  could  make 
no  more  judicious  choice  than  this,  by  which 
so  great  a  collection  of  difficulties  is  mag- 
nificently solved  that  we  wonder  if  we  be 
not  the  dupes  of  some  involuntary  illusion, 
whether  preconceived  theoretic  notions  have 
not  obscured  the  actual  facts,  whether,  in 
53 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

short,  the  pen  have  not  described  imaginary 
marvels.  No  scientific  conclusion  is  firmly 
established  until  it  has  received  confirmation 
by  means  of  practical  tests,  carried  out  in 
every  variety  of  way.  We  will  therefore 
subject  to  experimental  proof  the  physiolo- 
gical operation  of  which  the  Great  Cerceris 
has  just  apprised  us.  If  it  be  possible  to 
obtain  artificially  what  the  Wasp  obtains  with 
her  sting,  namely,  the  abolition  of  movement 
and  the  continued  preservation  of  the  patient 
in  a  perfectly  fresh  condition;  if  it  be  possible 
to  work  this  wonder  with  the  Beetles  hunted 
by  the  Cerceris,  or  with  those  presenting  a 
similar  nervous  centralization,  while  we  are 
unsuccessful  with  Beetles  whose  ganglia  are 
far  apart,  then  we  shall  be  bound  to  admit, 
however  hard  to  please  we  may  be  in  the 
matter  of  tests,  that  in  the  unconscious  in- 
spiration of  her  instinct  the  Wasp  has  all  the 
resources  of  consummate  art.  Let  us  see 
what  experiment  has  to  tell  us. 

The  operating-method  is  of  the  simplest. 
It  is  a  question  of  taking  a  needle,  or,  better 
and  more  convenient,  the  point  of  a  fine  steel 
nib  and  introducing  a  tiny  drop  of  some  cor- 
rosive fluid  into  the  thoracic  motor  centres, 
by  pricking  the  insect  slightly  at  the  junction 
54 


A  Scientific  Slaughterer 

of  the  prothorax,  behind  the  first  pair  of  feet. 
The  fluid  which  I  employ  is  ammonia;  but 
obviously  any  other  liquid  as  powerful  in  its 
action  would  produce  the  same  results.  The 
nib  being  charged  with  ammonia  as  it  might 
be  with  a  very  small  drop  of  ink,  I  give 
the  prick.  The  effects  obtained  differ  enor- 
mously, according  to  whether  we  experiment 
upon  species  whose  thoracic  ganglia  are  close 
together  or  upon  species  in  which  those  same 
ganglia  are  far  apart.  In  the  first  class,  my 
experiments  were  made  on  Dung-beetles:  the 
Sacred  Scarab  l  and  the  Wide-necked  Scarab ; 
on  Buprestes:  the  Bronze  Buprestis;  lastly, 
on  Weevils,  in  particular  on  the  Cleonus 
hunted  by  the  heroine  of  this  essay.  In  the 
second  class,  I  experimented  on  Ground- 
beetles:  Carabi,  Procrustes,  Chlaenii,  Spho- 
dri,  Nebrias;  on  Longicornes:  Saperdae  and 
Lamiae ;  on  Melasoma-beetles :  Cellar-beetles, 
Scauri,  Asidae. 

In  the   Scarabaei,   the   Buprestes  and  the 
Weevils,  the  effect  is  instantaneous :  all  move- 

1For  the  Sacred  Scarab,  or  Sacred  Beetle,  cf.  Insect 
Life,  by  ].  H.  Fabre,  translated  by  the  author  of 
Mademoiselle  Mori:  chaps,  i.  and  ii. ;  and  The  Life  and 
Love  of  the  Insect,  by  J.  Henri  Fabre,  translated  by  Alex- 
ander Teixeira  de  Mattos:  chaps,  i.  to  iv. —  Translator's 
Note. 

55 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

ment  ceases  suddenly,  without  convulsions, 
so  soon  as  the  fatal  drop  has  touched  the 
nerve-centres.  The  Cerceris'  own  sting  pro- 
duces no  more  speedy  annihilation.  There 
is  nothing  more  striking  than  this  immediate 
immobility  provoked  in  a  powerful  Sacred 
Beetle. 

But  this  is  not  the  only  resemblance  be- 
tween the  effects  produced  by  the  Wasp's 
sting  and  those  resulting  from  the  nib  poi- 
soned with  ammonia.  The  Scarabs,  Bu- 
prestes  and  Beetles  artificially  stung,  notwith- 
standing their  complete  immobility,  preserve 
for  three  weeks,  a  month  or  even  two  the 
perfect  flexibility  of  all  their  joints  and  the 
normal  freshness  of  their  internal  organs. 
Evacuation  takes  place  with  them  during  the 
first  days  as  in  the  normal  state;  and  move- 
ments can  be  induced  by  the  electric  battery. 
In  a  word,  they  behave  exactly  like  the  Bee- 
tles immolated  by  the  Cerceris;  there  is  abso- 
lute identity  between  the  state  into  which  the 
kidnapper  puts  her  victims  and  that  which  we 
produce  at  will  by  injuring  the  thoracic  nerve- 
centres  with  ammonia.  Now,  as  it  is  im- 
possible to  attribute  the  perfect  preservation 
of  the  insect  for  so  long  a  period  to  the  tiny 
drop  injected,  we  must  reject  altogether  any 
56 


A  Scientific  Slaughterer 

notion  of  an  antiseptic  fluid  and  admit  that, 
despite  its  perfect  immobility,  the  insect  is 
not  really  dead,  that  it  still  retains  a  glimmer 
of  life,  which  for  some  time  to  come  keeps 
the  organs  in  their  normal  condition  of  fresh- 
ness, but  gradually  fades  out,  until  at  last 
it  leaves  them  the  prey  of  corruption.  Be- 
sides, in  some  cases,  the  ammonia  does  not 
produce  complete  annihilation  of  movement 
except  in  the  insect's  legs;  and  then,  as  the 
deleterious  action  of  the  liquid  has  doubtless 
not  extended  far  enough,  the  antennas  pre- 
serve a  remnant  of  mobility  and  we  see  the 
insect,  even  more  than  a  month  after  the 
inoculation,  draw  them  back  quickly  at  the 
least  touch:  a  convincing  proof  that  life  has 
not  entirely  deserted  the  inanimate  body. 
This  movement  of  the  antennae  is  also  not 
uncommon  in  the  Weevils  wounded  by  the 
Cerceris. 

In  every  case,  the  injection  of  ammonia  at 
once  stops  all  movement  in  Scarabs,  Weevils 
and  Buprestes ;  but  we  do  not  always  succeed 
in  reducing  the  insect  to  the  condition  just 
described.  If  the  wound  be  too  deep,  if  the 
drop  administered  be  too  strong,  the  victim 
really  dies;  and,  in  two  or  three  days'  time, 
we  have  nothing  but  a  putrid  body  before  us. 
57 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

If  the  prick,  on  the  other  hand,  be  too  slight, 
the  insect,  after  a  longer  or  shorter  period 
of  deep  torpor,  comes  to  itself  and  at  least 
partially  recovers  its  power  of  motion.  The 
assailant  herself  may  sometimes  operate 
clumsily,  just  like  man,  for  I  have  noticed 
this  sort  of  resurrection  in  a  victim  stung  by 
the  dart  of  a  Digger-wasp.  The  Yellow- 
winged  Sphex,  whose  story  will  shortly  oc- 
cupy our  attention,  stacks  her  lairs  with 
young  Crickets  first  pricked  with  her  poi- 
soned lancet.  I  have  extracted  from  one  of 
those  lairs  three  poor  Crickets  whose  ex- 
treme limpness  would,  in  any  other  circum- 
stances, have  denoted  death.  But  here 
again  death  was  only  apparent.  Placed  in 
a  flask,  these  Crickets  kept  in  very  good  con- 
dition, perfectly  motionless  all  the  time,  for 
nearly  three  weeks.  In  the  end,  two  went 
mouldy  and  the  third  partly  revived,  that 
is  to  say,  he  recovered  the  power  of  motion 
in  his  antennae,  in  his  mouth-parts  and,  what 
is  more  remarkable,  in  his  first  two  pairs  of 
legs.  If  the  Wasp's  skill  sometimes  fails  to 
benumb  the  victim  permanently,  one  can 
hardly  expect  invariable  success  from  man's 
rough  experiments. 

In  the  Beetles  of  the  second  class,  that  is 
58 


A  Scientific  Slaughterer 

to  say,  those  whose  thoracic  ganglia  are  some 
distance  apart,  the  effect  of  the  ammonia  is 
quite  different.  The  least  vulnerable  are  the 
Ground-beetles.  A  puncture  which  would 
have  produced  instant  annihilation  of  move- 
ment in  a  large  Sacred  Beetle  produces  no- 
thing but  violent  and  disordered  convulsions 
in  the  medium-sized  Ground-Beetles,  be  they 
Chlaenius,  Nebria  or  Calathus.  Little  by 
little,  the  insect  quiets  down  and,  after  a  few 
hours'  rest,  its  usual  movements  are  resumed 
as  though  it  had  met  with  no  accident  what- 
ever. If  we  repeat  the  experiment  on  the 
same  specimen,  twice,  thrice  or  four  times 
over,  the  results  remain  the  same,  until  the 
wound  becomes  too  serious  and  the  insect 
actually  dies,  as  is  proved  by  its  desiccation 
and  putrefaction,  which  follows  soon  after. 
The  Melasoma-beetlesandLongicornes  are 
more  sensitive  to  the  action  of  the  ammonia. 
The  injection  of  the  corrosive  drop  pretty 
quickly  renders  them  motionless;  and,  after 
a  few  convulsions,  the  insect  seems  dead. 
But  this  paralysis,  which  would  have  per- 
sisted in  the  Dung-beetles,  the  Weevils  and 
the  Buprestes,  is  only  temporary  here: 
within  a  day,  motion  is  once  more  apparent, 
as  energetic  as  ever.  It  is  only  when  the 
59 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

dose  of  ammonia  is  of  a  certain  strength  that 
the  movements  fail  to  reappear;  but  then  the 
insect  is  dead,  quite  dead,  for  it  soon  begins 
to  decay.  It  is  impossible  therefore  to  pro- 
duce complete  and  persistent  paralysis  in 
Beetles  that  have  their  ganglia  far  apart  by 
the  same  measures  which  proved  so  effica- 
cious in  Beetles  with  ganglia  close  together: 
the  utmost  that  we  can  obtain  is  a  temporary 
paralysis  whose  effects  pass  off  within  a  day. 
The  demonstration  is  conclusive;  the  Cer- 
ceres  that  prey  on  Beetles  conform  in  their 
selection  to  what  could  be  taught  only 
by  the  most  learned  physiologists  and  the 
finest  anatomists.  One  would  vainly  strive 
to  see  no  more  in  this  than  casual  co- 
incidences: it  is  not  in  chance  that  we  shall 
find  the  key  to  such  harmonies  as  these. 


60 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    YELLOW-WINGED    SPHEX 

T  TNDER  their  powerful  armour,  which  no 
^-'  dart  can  penetrate,  the  insects  of  the 
Beetle  tribe  offer  but  a  single  vulnerable  spot 
to  the  sting-bearing  enemy.  This  defect  in 
the  breastplate  is  known  to  the  murderess, 
who  drives  in  her  poisoned  dagger  there  and 
at  one  blow  strikes  the  three  motor  centres, 
for  she  selects  her  victims  from  the  Weevil 
and  Buprestis  families,  whose  nervous  sys- 
tem is  centralized  to  the  requisite  degree. 
But  what  will  happen  when  the  prey  is  an 
insect  clad  not  in  mail  but  in  a  soft  skin, 
which  the  Wasp  can  stab  here  or  there  in- 
differently, in  any  part  of  the  body  that 
chances  to  be  exposed?  In  that  case  are  the 
blows  still  delivered  scientifically?  Like  the 
assassin  who  strikes  at  the  heart  to  cut  short 
the  dangerous  resistance  of  his  victim,  does 
the  assailant  follow  the  tactics  of  the  Cer- 
ceres  and  wound  the  motor  ganglia  by  prefer- 
ence? If  that  be  so,  then  what  happens 
when  these  ganglia  are  some  distance  apart 
61 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

and  so  independent  in  their  action  that  pa- 
ralysis of  one  is  not  necessarily  followed  by 
paralysis  of  the  others?  These  questions 
will  be  answered  by  the  story  of  a  Cricket- 
huntress,  the  Yellow-winged  Sphex  (Sphex 
flavipennis) . 

It  is  at  the  end  of  July  that  the  Yellow- 
winged  Sphex  tears  the  cocoon  that  has  pro- 
tected her  until  then  and  flies  out  of  her  sub- 
terranean cradle.  During  the  whole  of 
August,  she  is  frequently  seen  flitting,  in 
search  of  some  drop  of  honey,  around  the 
spiked  heads  of  the  field  eryngo,  the  common- 
est of  the  hardy  plants  that  brave  the  heat  of 
the  dog-days  in  this  month.  But  this  careless 
life  does  not  last  long,  for  by  the  beginning  of 
September  the  Sphex  is  at  her  arduous  task 
as  a  sapper  and  huntress.  She  generally  se- 
lects some  small  plateau,  on  the  high  banks 
by  the  side  of  the  roads,  wherein  to  establish 
her  home,  provided  that  she  find  two  indis- 
pensable things  there:  a  sandy  soil,  easy  to 
dig;  and  sunshine.  No  other  precaution  is 
taken  to  protect  the  dwelling  against  the  au- 
tumn rains  or  winter  frosts.  A  horizontal 
site,  unprotected,  lashed  by  the  rain  and  the 
winds,  suits  her  perfectly,  on  condition,  how- 
ever, that  it  is  exposed  to  the  sun.  And, 
6* 


The  Yellow-winged  Sphex 

when  a  heavy  shower  comes  in  the  middle  of 
her  mining,  it  is  pitiful  next  day  to  see  the 
half-built  galleries  in  ruins,  choked  with  sand 
and  finally  abandoned  by  their  engineers. 

The  Sphex  seldom  practises  her  industry 
alone ;  the  site  selected  is  usually  exploited  by 
small  bands  of  ten, or  twenty  sappers  or  more. 
One  must  have  spent  days  in  contemplating 
one  of  these  villages  to  form  any  idea  of 
the  restless  activity,  the  spasmodic  haste,  the 
abrupt  movements  of  those  hard-working 
miners.  The  soil  is  rapidly  attacked  with 
the  rakes  of  the  fore-feet:  cams  instar,  as 
Linnaeus  says.  No  mischievous  puppy  dis- 
plays more  energy  in  digging  up  the  ground. 
At  the  same  time,  each  worker  sings  her  glad 
ditty,  which  consists  of  a  shrill  and  strident 
noise,  constantly  broken  off  and  modulated 
by  the  vibrations  of  the  wings  and  thorax. 
One  would  think  that  they  were  a  troop  of 
merry  companions  encouraging  one  another 
in  their  work  with  a  cadenced  rhythm. 
Meanwhile,  the  sand  flies,  falling  in  a  fine 
dust  on  their  quivering  wings;  and  the  too- 
bulky  gravel,  removed  bit  by  bit,  rolls  far 
away  from  the  workyard.  If  a  piece  seems 
too  heavy  to  be  moved,  the  insect  gets  up 
steam  with  a  shrill  note  which  reminds  one 
63 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

of  the  woodman's  "  Hool  "  Under  the  re- 
doubled efforts  of  tarsi  and  mandibles,  the 
cave  soon  takes  shape;  the  insect  is  already 
able  to  dive  into  it  bodily.  We  then  see  a 
lively  alternation  of  forward  movements,  to 
loosen  new  materials,  and  backward  move- 
ments, to  sweep  the  rubbish  outside.  In  this 
constant  hurrying  to  and  fro,  the  Sphex  does 
not  walk,  she  darts  as  though  shot  from  a 
spring;  she  bounds  with  throbbing  abdomen 
and  quivering  antennae,  her  whole  body,  in 
short,  animated  with  a  musical  vibration. 
The  miner  is  now  out  of  sight;  but  we  still 
hear  underground  her  untiring  song,  while 
at  intervals  we  catch  a  glimpse  of  her  hind- 
legs,  pushing  a  torrent  of  sand  backwards  to 
the  mouth  of  the  burrow.  From  time  to 
time,  the  Sphex  interrupts  her  subterranean 
labours,  either  to  come  and  dust  herself  in 
the  sun,  to  rid  herself  of  the  grains  of  sand 
which,  slipping  into  her  delicate  joints,  might 
hamper  the  liberty  of  her  movements,  or  else 
to  reconnoitre  the  neighbourhood.  Despite 
these  interruptions,  which  for  that  matter  do 
not  last  long,  the  gallery  is  dug  in  the  space 
of  a  few  hours;  and  the  Sphex  comes  to  her 
threshold  to  chant  her  triumph  and  give  the 
finishing  polish  to  her  work  by  removing 
64 


The  Yellow-winged  Sphex 

some  unevenness  and  carrying  away  a  speck 
or  two  of  earth  whose  drawbacks  are  per- 
ceptible to  her  discerning  eye  alone. 

Of  the  numerous  tribes  of  Sphex-wasps 
which  I  have  visited,  one  in  particular  re- 
mains fixed  in  my  memory  because  of  its 
curious  dwelling-place.  On  the  edge  of  a 
high-road  were  some  small  heaps  of  mud, 
taken  from  the  ditches  by  the  road-mender's 
shovel.  One  of  these  heaps,  long  ago  dried 
in  the  sun,  formed  a  cone-shaped  mound, 
resembling  a  large  sugar-loaf  twenty  inches 
high.  The  site  seemed  to  have  attracted  the 
Wasps,  who  had  established  themselves  there 
in  a  more  populous  colony  than  I  have  ever 
since  beheld.  The  cone  of  dry  mud  was 
riddled  from  top  to  bottom  with  burrows, 
which  gave  it  the  appearance  of  an  enormous 
sponge.  On  every  storey  there  was  a  fever- 
ish animation,  a  busy  coming  and  going  which 
reminded  one  of  the  scenes  in  some  great 
yard  when  the  work  is  urgent.  Crickets 
were  being  dragged  by  the  antennae  up  the 
slopes  of  the  conical  city;  victuals  were  being 
stored  in  the  larders  of  the  cells;  dust  was 
pouring  from  the  galleries  in  process  of  ex- 
cavation by  the  miners;  grimy  faces  appeared 
at  intervals  at  the  mouths  of  the  tunnels; 
65 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

there  were  constant  exits  and  constant  en- 
trances; and  now  and  again  a  Sphex,  in  her 
brief  intervals  of  leisure,  would  climb  to  the 
top  of  the  cone,  perhaps  to  cast  a  look  of 
satisfaction  from  this  belvedere  over  the 
works  in  general.  What  a  spectacle  to 
tempt  me,  to  make  me  long  to  carry  the 
whole  city  and  its  inhabitants  away  with  me  1 
It  was  useless  even  to  try:  the  mass  was  too 
heavy.  One  cannot  root  up  a  village  from 
its  foundations  to  transplant  it  elsewhere. 

We  will  return  therefore  to  the  Sphex- 
wasps  working  on  level  ground,  in  ordinary 
soil,  as  happens  in  by  far  the  greater  num- 
ber of  cases.  As  soon  as  the  burrow  is  dug, 
the  chase  begins.  Let  us  profit  by  the 
Wasp's  distant  excursions  in  search  of  her 
game  and  examine  the  dwelling.  The  usual 
site  of  a  Sphex  colony  is,  as  I  said,  level 
ground.  Nevertheless,  the  soil  is  not  so 
smooth  but  that  we  find  a  few  little  mounds 
crowned  with  a  tuft  of  grass  or  wormwood, 
a  few  cracks  consolidated  by  the  scanty  roots 
of  the  vegetation  that  covers  them.  It  is 
in  the  sides  of  these  furrows  that  the  Sphex 
builds  her  dwelling.  The  gallery  consists 
first  of  a  horizontal  portion,  two  or  three 
inches  long  and  serving  as  an  approach  to 
66 


The  Yellow-winged  Sphex 

the  hidden  retreat  destined  for  the  provisions 
and  the  larvae.  It  is  in  this  entrance-passage! 
that  the  Sphex  takes  shelter  in  bad  weather  5 
it  is  here  that  she  retires  for  the  night  and 
rests  for  a  few  moments  in  the  daytime,  put- 
ting outside  only  her  expressive  face,  with  its 
great,  bold  eyes.  Following  on  the  vesti- 
bule comes  a  sudden  bend,  which  descends 
more  or  less  obliquely  to  a  depth  of  two  or 
three  inches  more  and  ends  in  an  oval  cell 
of  somewhat  larger  diameter,  whose  main 
axis  lies  horizontally.  The  walls  of  the  cell 
are  not  coated  with  any  particular  cement; 
but,  in  spite  of  their  bareness,  we  can  see 
that  they  have  been  the  object  of  the  most 
conscientious  labour.  The  sand  has  been 
heaped  up  and  carefully  levelled  on  the  floor, 
the  ceiling  and  the  sides,  so  as  to  prevent 
landslips  and  remove  any  roughness  that 
might  hurt  the  delicate  skin  of  the  grub. 
Lastly,  this  cell  communicates  with  the  pass- 
age by  a  narrow  entrance,  just  wide  enough 
to  admit  the  Sphex  laden  with  her  prey. 

When  this  first  cell  is  supplied  with  an  egg 
and  the  necessary  provisions,  the  Sphex  walls 
up  the  entrance,  but  does  not  yet  abandon 
her  burrow.  A  second  cell  is  dug  beside  the 
first  and  victualled  in  the  same  way;  then  a 
67 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

third  and  sometimes  a  fourth.  Not  till 
then  does  the  Sphex  shoot  back  into  the  bur- 
row all  the  rubbish  accumulated  outside  the 
door  and  completely  remove  all  the  outward 
traces  of  her  work.  Thus,  to  each  burrow 
there  are  usually  three  cells,  rarely  two  and 
still  more  rarely  four.  Now,  as  we  ascer- 
tain when  dissecting  the  insect,  we  can  esti- 
mate the  number  of  eggs  laid  at  about  thirty, 
which  brings  up  to  ten  the  number  of  bur- 
rows needed.  On  the  other  hand,  the  ope- 
rations are  hardly  begun  before  September 
and  are  finished  by  the  end  of  the  month. 
The  Sphex,  therefore,  can  devote  only  two 
or  three  days  at  most  to  each  burrow  and  its 
provisioning.  No  one  will  deny  that  the  act- 
ive little  creature  has  not  a  moment  to  lose, 
when,  in  so  short  a  time,  she  has  to  excavate 
her  den,  to  procure  a  dozen  Crickets,  to 
carry  them  sometimes  from  a  distance  in  the 
face  of  innumerable  difficulties,  to  store  them 
away  and  finally  to  stop  up  the  burrow. 
And  besides  there  are  days  when  the  wind 
makes  hunting  impossible,  rainy  days  or  even 
merely  grey  days,  which  cause  all  work  to  be 
suspended.  One  can  readily  imagine  from 
this  that  the  Sphex  is  unable  to  give  to  her 
buildings  the  perhaps  permanent  solidity 
68 


The  Yellow-winged  Sphex 

which  the  Great  Cerceres  bestow  upon  their 
long  galleries.  The  latter  hand  down  from 
generation  to  generation  their  substantial 
dwellings,  each  year  excavated  to  a  greater 
depth  than  the  last,  galleries  which  threw  me 
into  a  sweat  when  I  tried  to  inspect  them  and 
which  generally  triumphed  over  my  efforts 
and  my  implements.  The  Sphex  does  not 
inherit  the  work  of  her  predecessors:  she  has 
to  do  everything  for  herself  and  quickly. 
Her  dwelling  is  but  a  tent,  hastily  pitched 
for  a  day  and  shifted  on  the  morrow.  As 
compensation,  the  larvae,  who  have  only  a 
thin  layer  of  sand  to  cover  them,  are  capable 
themselves  of  providing  the  shelter  which 
their  mother  could  not  create:  they  clothe 
themselves  in  a  threefold  and  fourfold  water- 
proof wrapper,  far  superior  to  the  thin  co- 
coon of  the  Cerceres. 

But  here,  with  a  loud  buzz,  comes  a  Sphex 
who,  returning  from  the  chase,  stops  on  a 
neighbouring  bush,  holding  in  her  mandibles, 
by  one  antenna,  a  large  Cricket,  several 
times  her  own  weight.  Exhausted  by  the 
burden,  she  takes  a  moment's  rest.  Then 
she  once  more  grips  her  captive  between  her 
feet  and,  with  a  supreme  effort,  covers  in  one 
flight  the  width  of  the  ravine  that  separates 
69 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

her  from  her  home.  She  alights  heavily  on 
the  level  ground  where  I  am  watching,  in  the 
very  middle  of  a  Sphex  village.  The  rest 
of  the  journey  is  performed  on  foot.  The 
Wasp,  not  at  all  intimidated  by  my  presence, 
bestrides  her  victim  and  advances,  bearing 
her  head  proudly  aloft  and  hauling  the 
Cricket,  who  trails  between  her  legs,  by  an 
antenna  held  in  her  mandibles.  If  the 
ground  be  bare,  it  is  easy  to  drag  the  victim 
along;  but,  should  some  grass-tuft  spread  the 
network  of  its  shoots  across  the  road,  it  is 
curious  to  observe  the  amazement  of  the 
Sphex  when  one  of  these  little  ropes  suddenly 
thwarts  her  efforts;  it  is  curious  to  witness 
her  marches  and  countermarches,  her  re- 
iterated attempts,  until  the  obstacle  is  over- 
come, either  with  the  aid  of  the  wings  or  by 
means  of  a  clever  deviation.  The  Cricket 
is  at  last  conveyed  to  his  destination  and  is 
so  placed  that  his  antennae  exactly  touch  the 
mouth  of  the  burrow.  The  Sphex  then 
abandons  her  prey  and  descends  hurriedly  to 
the  bottom  of  the  cave.  A  few  seconds 
later,  we  see  her  reappear,  showing  her  head 
out  of  doors  and  giving  a  little  cry  of  delight. 
The  Cricket's  antennae  are  within  her  reach; 
70 


The  Yellow-winged  Sphex 

she  seizes   them   and  the  game   is  brought 
quickly  down  to  the  lair. 

I  still  ask  myself,  without  being  able  to 
find  a  sufficiently  convincing  solution,  the 
reason  for  these  complicated  proceedings  at 
the  moment  when  the  Cricket  is  introduced 
into  the  burrow.  Instead  of  going  down  to 
her  den  alone,  to  reappear  afterwards  and 
pick  up  the  prey  left  for  a  time  on  the  thresh, 
old,  would  not  the  Sphex  have  done  better 
to  continue  to  drag  the  Cricket  along  the  gal' 
lery  as  she  does  in  the  open  air,  seeing  that 
the  width  of  the  tunnel  permits  it,  or  else  to 
go  in  first,  backwards,  and  pull  him  after 
her?  The  various  Predatory  Wasps  whom 
I  have  hitherto  been  able  to  observe  carry 
down  to  their  cells  straight  away,  without 
preliminaries,  the  game  which  they  hold 
clasped  beneath  their  bellies  with  the  aid 
of  their  mandibles  and  their  middle-legs. 
Leon  Dufour's  Cerceris  begins  by  complicat- 
ing her  procedure,  because,  after  laying  her 
Buprestis  for  a  moment  at  the  door  of  her 
underground  home,  she  at  once  enters  her 
gallery  backwards  and  then  seizes  the  vic- 
tim with  her  mandibles  and  drags  it  to  the 
bottom  of  the  burrow.  But  it  is  a  far  cry 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

from  these  tactics  and  those  adopted  in  a  like 
case  by  the  Cricket-hunters.  Why  that 
domiciliary  visit  which  invariably  precedes 
the  entrance  of  the  game?  Could  it  not  be 
that,  before  descending  with  a  cumbrous  bur- 
den, the  Sphex  thinks  it  wise  to  take  a  look 
at  the  bottom  of  her  dwelling,  so  as  to  make 
sure  that  all  is  well  and,  if  necessary,  to  drive 
out  some  brazen  parasite  who  may  have 
slipped  in  during  her  entrance?  If  so,  who 
is  the  parasite?  Several  Diptera,  Predatory 
Gnats,  especially  Tachinae,  watch  at  the  doors 
of  the  Hunting  Wasps,  spying  for  the  pro- 
pitious moment  to  lay  their  eggs  on  others' 
provisions;  but  none  of  them  enters  the  home 
or  ventures  into  the  dark  passages  where  the 
owner,  if  by  ill-luck  she  happened  to  be  in, 
would  perhaps  make  them  pay  dearly  for 
their  audacity.  The  Sphex,  like  all  the  rest, 
pays  her  tribute  to  the  plundering  Tachinae; 
but  these  never  enter  the  burrow  to  perpe- 
trate their  misdeeds.  Besides,  have  they  not 
all  the  time  that  they  need  to  lay  their  eggs 
on  the  Cricket?  If  they  are  sharp  about 
it,  they  can  easily  profit  by  the  temporary 
abandonment  of  the  victim  to  entrust  their 
progeny  to  it.  Some  greater  danger  still 
must  therefore  threaten  the  Sphex,  since  her 
72 


The  Yellow-winged  Sphex 

preliminary  descent  of  the  burrow  is  of  such 
imperious  necessity. 

Here  is  the  only  fact  observed  by  myself 
that  may  throw  a  little  light  on  the  problem. 
Amid  a  colony  of  Sphex-wasps  in  full  swing, 
a  colony  from  which  any  other  Wasp  is 
usually  excluded,  I  one  day  surprised  a  hunt- 
ress of  a  different  genus,  Tachytes  nigra, 
carrying  one  by  one,  without  hurrying,  in  the 
midst  of  the  crowd  where  she  was  but  an  in- 
truder, grains  of  sand,  bits  of  little  dry  stalks 
and  other  diminutive  materials  to  stop  up  a 
burrow  of  the  same  shape  and  width  as  the 
adjacent  burrows  of  the  Sphex.  The  labour 
was  too  carefully  performed  to  allow  of  any 
doubt  of  the  presence  of  the  worker's  egg  in 
the  tunnel.  A  Sphex  moving  about  uneasily, 
apparently  the  lawful  owner  of  the  burrow, 
did  not  fail,  each  time  that  the  strange  Wasp 
entered  the  gallery,  to  rush  in  pursuit  of  her; 
but  she  emerged  swiftly,  as  though  fright- 
ened, followed  by  the  other,  who  impassively 
continued  her  work.  I  inspected  this  bur- 
row, evidently  an  object  in  dispute  between 
the  two  Wasps,  and  found  in  it  a  cell  pro- 
visioned with  four  Crickets.  Suspicion  al- 
most makes  way  for  certainty:  these  pro- 
visions are  far  in  excess  of  the  needs  of  a 
73 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

Tachytes-grub,  who  is  certainly  not  more 
than  half  the  size  of  the  larva  of  the  Sphex. 
She  whose  impassiveness,  whose  care  to  stop 
up  the  burrow  would  at  first  have  made  one 
take  her  for  the  mistress  of  the  house  was 
in  reality  a  mere  usurper.  How  is  it  that  the 
Sphex,  who  is  larger  and  more  powerful  than 
her  adversary,  allows  herself  to  be  robbed 
with  impunity,  confining  herself  to  fruitless 
pursuits  and  fleeing  like  a  coward  when  the 
interloper,  who  does  not  even  appear  to  no- 
tice her  presence,  turns  round  to  leave  the 
burrow?  Can  it  be  that,  in  insects  as  in 
man,  the  first  chance  of  success  lies  in 
de  I'audace,  encore  de  I'audace  et  toujours 
de  I'audace?  The  usurper  certainly  had  au- 
dacity and  to  spare.  I  see  her  still,  with 
imperturbable  calmness,  moving  in  and  out 
in  front  of  the  complaisant  Sphex,  who 
stamps  her  feet  with  impatience  but  does  not 
fall  upon  the  thief. 

I  will  add  that,  in  other  circumstances,  I 
have  repeatedly  found  the  same  Wasp, 
whom  I  presume  to  be  a  parasite,  in  short  the 
Black  Tachytes,  dragging  a  Cricket  by  one 
of  his  antennae.  Was  he  a  lawfully-acquired 
prey?  I  should  like  to  think  so;  but  the 
vacillating  behaviour  of  the  insect,  who  went 
74 


The  Yellow-winged  Sphex 

straying  about  the  ruts  in  the  roads  as 
though  seeking  for  a  burrow  to  suit  it,  al- 
ways left  me  uncertain.  I  have  never  wit- 
nessed its  digging-work,  if  it  really  un- 
dertakes the  labour  of  excavation.  And,  a 
more  serious  matter,  I  have  seen  it  leave  its 
game  on  the  rubbish-heap,  perhaps  not 
knowing  what  to  do  with  it,  for  lack  of  a  bur- 
row wherein  to  place  it.  Such  wastefulness 
as  this  seems  to  me  to  point  to  ill-gotten 
goods;  and  I  ask  myself  if  the  Cricket  were 
not  stolen  from  the  Sphex  at  the  moment 
when  she  abandoned  her  prey  on  the  thresh- 
old. My  suspicions  also  fall  upon  Tachytes 
obsoleta,  banded  with  white  round  the  abdo- 
men like  Sphex  albisecta  and  feeding  her  lar- 
vae on  Crickets  similar  to  those  hunted  by  the 
latter.  I  have  never  seen  her  digging  any 
galleries,  but  I  have  caught  her  with  a 
Cricket  whom  the  Sphex  would  not  have  re- 
jected. This  identity  of  provisions  in  spe- 
cies of  different  genera  raises  doubts  in  my 
mind  as  to  the  lawfulness  of  the  booty.  Let 
me  add,  lastly,  to  atone  in  a  measure  for  the 
injury  which  my  suspicions  may  do  to  the 
reputation  of  the  genus,  that  I  have  been  the 
eye-witness  of  a  perfectly  straightforward 
capture  of  a  small  and  still  wingless  Cricket 
75 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

by  Tachytes  tarsina  and  that  I  have  seen  her 
digging  cells  and  victualling  them  with  game 
acquired  by  her  own  valiant  exertions. 

I  have  therefore  only  suspicions  to  offer 
in  explanation  of  the  obstinacy  of  the  Sphex- 
wasps  in  going  down  their  tunnels  before 
carrying  in  their  prey.  Can  they  have  some 
other  object  besides  that  of  dislodging  a  para- 
site who  may  have  arrived  during  their  ab- 
sence? This  is  what  I  despair  of  ever  know- 
ing; for  who  can  interpret  the  thousand  ruses 
of  instinct?  Poor  human  reason,  which  can- 
not even  fathom  the  wisdom  of  a  Sphex! 

At  any  rate,  it  has  been  proved  that  these 
ruses  are  singularly  invariable.  In  this  con- 
nection, I  will  mention  an  experiment  which 
interested  me  greatly.  Here  are  the  par- 
ticulars: at  the  moment  when  the  Sphex  is 
making  her  domiciliary  visit,  I  take  the 
Cricket  left  at  the  entrance  to  the  dwelling 
and  place  her  a  few  inches  farther  away. 
The  Sphex  comes  up,  utters  her  usual  cry, 
looks  here  and  there  in  astonishment  and, 
seeing  the  game  too  far  off,  comes  out  of  her 
hole  to  seize  it  and  bring  it  back  to  its  right 
place.  Having  done  this,  she  goes  down 
again,  but  alone.  I  play  the  same  trick  upon 
her;  and  the  Sphex  has  the  same  disappoint- 
76 


The  Yellow-winged  Sphex 

ment  on  her  arrival  at  the  entrance.  The 
victim  is  once  more  dragged  back  to  the  edge 
of  the  hole,  but  the  Wasp  always  goes  down 
alone;  and  this  goes  on  as  long  as  my  pa- 
tience is  not  exhausted.  Time  after  time, 
forty  times  over,  did  I  repeat  the  same  ex- 
periment on  the  same  Wasp ;  her  persistency 
vanquished  mine  and  her  tactics  never  varied. 

Having  demonstrated  the  same  inflexible 
obstinacy  which  I  have  just  described  in  the 
case  of  all  the  Sphex-wasps  on  whom  I  cared 
to  experiment  in  the  same  colony,  I  continued 
to  worry  my  head  over  it  for  some  time. 
What  I  asked  myself  was  this : 

"  Does  the  insect  obey  a  fatal  tendency, 
which  no  circumstances  can  ever  modify? 
Are  its  actions  all  performed  by  rule;  and 
has  it  no  power  of  acquiring  the  least  experi- 
ence on  its  own  account?  " 

Some  additional  observations  modified 
this  too-absolute  view.  Next  year,  I  visit 
the  same  spot  at  the  proper  season.  The 
new  generation  has  inherited  the  burrowing- 
site  selected  by  the  previous  generation;  it 
has  also  faithfully  inherited  its  tactics:  the 
experiment  of  withdrawing  the  Cricket  yields 
the  same  results.  Such  as  last  year's  Sphex- 
wasps  were,  such  are  those  of  the  present 
77 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

year,  equally  persistent  in  a  fruitless  pro- 
cedure. The  illusion  was  simply  growing 
worse,  when  good  fortune  brought  me  into 
the  presence  of  another  colony  of  Sphex- 
wasps,  in  a  district  at  some  distance  from 
the  first  I  recommenced  my  attempts. 
After  two  or  three  experiments  with  results 
similar  to  those  which  I  had  so  often  ob- 
tained, the  Sphex  got  astride  of  the  Cricket, 
seized  him  with  her  mandibles  by  the  an- 
tennae and  at  once  dragged  him  into  the  bur- 
row. Who  was  the  fool  now?  Why,  the 
experimenter  foiled  by  the  clever  Waspl 
At  the  other  holes,  her  neighbours  likewise, 
one  sooner,  another  later,  discovered  my 
treachery  and  entered  the  dwelling  with  the 
game,  instead  of  persisting  in  abandoning 
it  on  the  threshold  to  seize  it  afterwards. 
What  did  all  this  mean?  The  colony  which 
I  was  now  inspecting,  descended  from  an- 
other stock  —  for  the  children  return  to  the 
site  selected  by  their  parents  —  was  cleverer 
than  the  colony  of  the  year  before.  Craft  is 
handed  down:  there  are  tribes  that  are 
sharper-witted  and  tribes  that  are  duller-wit- 
ted,  apparently  according  to  the  faculties  of 
their  elders.  With  the  Sphex  as  with  us,  the 
intellect  differs  with  the  province. 
78 


The  Yellow-winged  Sphex 

Next  day,  in  a  different  locality,  I  repeated 
my  experiment  with  another  Cricket;  and 
every  time  the  Sphex  was  hoodwinked.  I 
had  come  upon  a  dense-minded  tribe,  a  regu- 
lar village  of  Boeotians,  as  in  my  first  observa- 
tions. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   THREE   DAGGER-THRUSTS 

THERE  is  no  doubt  that  the  Sphex  dis- 
plays her  most  cunning  resources  at  the 
moment  of  immolating  a  Cricket;  it  is  im- 
portant therefore  to  ascertain  the  manner 
wherein  the  victim  is  sacrificed.  Profiting 
by  the  repeated  attempts  which  I  had 
made  when  I  was  studying  the  tactics  of  the 
Cerceres,  I  at  once  applied  to  the  Sphex  the 
method  which  had  succeeded  with  the  other 
Wasps,  a  method  that  consisted  in  taking  the 
prey  from  the  huntress  and  forthwith  re- 
placing it  by  another,  living  prey.  The  sub- 
stitution is  all  the  easier  inasmuch  as  we  have 
seen  the  Sphex  herself  releasing  her  victim 
in  order  to  go  down  the  burrow  for  a  mo- 
ment alone.  Her  daring  familiarity,  which 
makes  her  come  and  take  from  your  fingers 
and  even  out  of  your  hand  the  Cricket  whom 
you  have  stolen  from  her  and  now  offer  her 
again,  also  lends  itself  admirably  to  the  suc- 
cessful issue  of  the  experiment,  by  allowing 
80 


The  Three  Dagger-thrusts 

you  to  observe  every  detail  of  the  drama 
closely. 

Again,  to  find  live  Crickets  is  an  easy  mat- 
ter: we  have  but  to  lift  the  first  stone  that 
we  see  and  we  find  them  crouching  under- 
neath, sheltered  from  the  sun.  These 
Crickets  are  young  ones,  of  the  same  year, 
who  as  yet  boast  but  rudimentary  wings 
and  who,  not  possessing  the  industry  of  the 
full-grown  insect,  have  not  learnt  to  dig 
those  cavernous  retreats  where  they  would 
be  safe  from  the  Sphex'  investigations.  In 
a  few  moments  I  have  as  many  live  Crickets 
as  I  could  wish  for.  This  completes  my 
preparations.  I  climb  to  the  top  of  my  ob- 
servatory, establish  myself  on  the  level 
ground,  in  the  centre  of  the  Sphex  village, 
and  wait. 

A  huntress  appears  upon  the  scene,  carts 
her  Cricket  to  the  entrance  of  the  home  and 
goes  down  her  burrow  by  herself.  I  quickly 
remove  the  Cricket  and  substitute  one  of  mine, 
placing  him,  however,  some  distance  away 
from  the  hole.  The  kidnapper  returns, 
looks  round  and  runs  and  seizes  the  victim, 
which  is  too  far  off  for  her.  I  am  all  eyes, 
all  attention.  Nothing  would  induce  me  to 
give  up  my  part  in  the  tragic  spectacle  which 
81 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

I  am  about  to  witness.  The  terrified  Cricket 
takes  to  flight,  hopping  as  fast  as  he  can;  the 
Sphex  pursues  him  hot-foot,  reaches  him, 
rushes  upon  him.  There  follows,  amid  the 
dust,  a  confused  encounter,  wherein  each 
champion,  now  victor,  now  vanquished,  by 
turns  is  at  the  top  or  at  the  bottom.  Success, 
for  a  moment  undecided,  at  last  crowns  the 
aggressor's  efforts.  Despite  his  vigorous 
kicks,  despite  the  snaps  of  his  pincer-like 
mandibles,  the  Cricket  is  laid  low  and 
stretched  upon  his  back. 

The  murderess  soon  makes  her  arrange- 
ments. She  places  herself  belly  to  belly 
with  her  adversary,  but  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion, grasps  one  of  the  threads  at  the  tip  of 
the  Cricket's  abdomen  with  her  mandibles 
and  masters  with  her  fore-legs  the  convulsive 
efforts  of  his  thick  hinder  thighs.  At  the 
same  time,  her  middle-legs  hug  the  heaving 
sides  of  the  beaten  insect;  and  her  hind-legs, 
pressing  like  two  levers  on  the  front  of  the 
head,  force  the  joint  of  the  neck  to  open 
wide.  The  Sphex  then  curves  her  abdomen 
vertically,  so  as  to  offer  only  an  unattack- 
able  convex  surface  to  the  Cricket's  mandi- 
bles; and  we  see,  not  without  emotion,  its 
poisoned  lancet  drive  once  into  the  victim's 
82 


The  Three  Dagger-thrusts 

neck,  next  into  the  joint  of  the  front  two  seg- 
ments of  the  thorax  and  lastly  towards  the 
abdomen.  In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  re- 
late, the  murder  is  consummated;  and  the 
Sphex,  after  adjusting  the  disorder  of  her 
toilet,  makes  ready  to  haul  home  the  victim, 
whose  limbs  are  still  quivering  in  the  throes 
of  death. 

Let  us  consider  for  a  moment  the  excel- 
lence of  the  tactics  of  which  I  have  given  a 
feeble  glimpse.  The  Cerceris  attacks  a 
passive  adversary,  incapable  of  flight,  almost 
devoid  of  offensive  weapons,  whose  sole 
chances  of  safety  lie  in  a  stout  cuirass,  the 
weak  point  of  which,  however,  is  known  to 
the  murderess.  But  what  a  difference  here ! 
The  quarry  is  armed  with  dreadful  mandibles, 
capable  of  disembowelling  the  assailant  if 
they  succeed  in  seizing  her;  it  sports  a  pair 
of  powerful  legs,  regular  clubs  bristling  with 
a  double  row  of  sharp  spikes,  which  can  be 
used  either  to  enable  the  Cricket  to  hop  out 
of  his  enemy's  reach,  or  to  send  her  sprawl- 
ing with  brutal  kicks.  Observe  therefore 
the  precautions  which  the  Sphex  takes  before 
setting  her  sting  in  motion.  The  victim, 
turned  upon  his  back,  cannot,  for  lack  of  any 
purchase,  use  his  hind-levers  to  escape  with, 
83 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

which  he  certainly  would  do  if  he  were  at- 
tacked in  the  normal  position,  as  are  the  big 
Weevils  of  the  Great  Cerceris.  His  spurred 
legs,  mastered  by  the  Sphex'  fore-feet,  can- 
not act  as  offensive  weapons  either;  and  his 
mandibles,  kept  at  a  distance  by  the  Wasp's 
hind-legs,  open  in  wide  menace  without  being 
able  to  seize  a  thing.  But  it  is  not  enough 
for  the  Sphex  to  render  her  Cricket  incapable 
of  hurting  her;  she  must  also  hold  him  so 
firmly  pinioned  that  he  cannot  make  the 
slightest  movement  capable  of  diverting  the 
sting  from  the  points  at  which  the  poison  is 
to  be  injected;  and  it  is  probably  with  the  ob- 
ject of  stilling  the  movements  of  the  abdo- 
men that  one  of  its  terminal  threads  is 
grasped.  No,  if  a  fertile  imagination  had 
allowed  itself  free  scope  to  invent  a  plan  of 
attack  at  will,  it  could  not  have  contrived  any- 
thing better;  and  it  is  open  to  doubt  whether 
the  athletes  of  the  classic  -palestra,  when 
grappling  with  an  adversary,  boasted  more 
scientific  attitudes. 

I  have  said  that  the  sting  is  driven  several 
times  into  the  patient's  body:  first  under  the 
neck,  then  behind  the  prothorax,  next  and 
lastly  towards  the  top  of  the  abdomen.  It 
is  in  these  three  dagger-thrusts  that  the  in- 
84 


The  Three  Dagger-thrusts 

fallibility  and  the  intuitive  science  of  instinct 
appear  in  all  their  splendour.  Let  us  first 
recall  the  principal  conclusions  to  which  our 
earlier  study  of  the  Cerceris  has  led  us. 
The  victims  of  the  Wasps  whose  larvae  live 
on  prey  are  not  proper  corpses,  in  spite  of 
their  immobility,  which  is  sometimes  com- 
plete. They  suffer  simply  from  a  total  or 
partial  locomotory  paralysis,  from  a  more  or 
less  thorough  annihilation  of  animal  life; 
but  vegetable  life,  the  life  of  the  organs  of 
nutrition,  is  maintained  for  a  long  while  yet 
and  preserves  from  decomposition  the  prey 
which  the  larva  is  not  to  devour  for  some 
time  to  come.  To  produce  this  paralysis, 
the  Hunting  Wasp  employ  precisely  the 
process  which  the  advanced  science  of  our 
own  day  might  suggest  to  the  experimental 
physiologists,  that  is  to  say,  they  injure,  by 
means  of  their  poisoned  sting,  the  nerve- 
centres  that  control  the  locomotory  organs. 
We  know  besides  that  the  several  centres  or 
ganglia  of  the  nervous  system  of  articulate 
animals  are,  within  certain  limits,  independ- 
ent of  one  another  in  their  action,  so  that  an 
injury  to  any  one  of  them  does  not,  or  at 
any  rate  not  immediately,  entail  more  than 
the  paralysis  of  the  corresponding  segment; 
85 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

and  this  applies  all  the  more  when  the  dif- 
ferent ganglia  are  farther  apart.  When,  on 
the  other  hand,  they  are  welded  together,  the 
lesion  of  this  common  centre  induces  paraly- 
sis of  all  the  segments  over  which  its  ramifi- 
cations are  distributed.  This  is  the  case 
with  the  Buprestes  and  the  Weevils,  whom 
the  Cerceres  paralyse  with  a  single  thrust  of 
the  sting,  aimed  at  the  common  mass  of  the 
nerve-centres  of  the  thorax.  But  open  a 
Cricket.  What  do  we  find  to  set  the  three 
pairs  of  legs  in  motion?  We  find  what  the 
Sphex  knew  long  before  the  anatomists: 
three  nervous  centres  at  a  great  distance 
one  from  the  other.  Hence  the  magnificent 
logic  of  her  needle-thrusts  thrice  repeated. 
Proud  science,  bend  the  knee ! 

Despite  the  appearances  that  might  make 
us  think  otherwise,  the  Crickets  immolated 
by  the  Yellow-winged  Sphex  are  no  more 
dead  than  the  Weevils  pierced  by  the  Cer- 
ceris'  dart.  The  flexibility  of  the  victims' 
integuments,  faithfully  revealing  the  slight- 
est internal  movement,  enables  us  in  this  case 
to  dispense  with  the  artificial  methods  which 
I  employed  to  demonstrate  the  presence  of 
a  remnant  of  life  in  the  Cleoni  of  the  Great 
Cerceris.  In  fact,  if  we  assiduously  observe 
86 


The  Three  Dagger-thrusts 

a  Cricket  stretched  on  his  back,  a  week,  a 
fortnight  even  or  more  after  the  murder,  we 
see  the  abdomen  heaving  deeply  at  long  in- 
tervals. Pretty  often  we  can  still  perceive 
a  few  quiverings  in  the  palpi  and  exceedingly- 
pronounced  movements  on  the  part  of  both 
the  antennae  and  the  abdominal  threads, 
which  diverge  and  separate  and  then  sud- 
denly come  together.  I  have  succeeded,  by 
placing  the  sacrificed  Crickets  in  glass  tubes, 
in  keeping  them  perfectly  fresh  for  a  month 
and  a  half.  Consequently,  the  Sphex-grubs, 
which  live  for  less  than  a  fortnight  before 
shrouding  themselves  in  their  cocoons,  are 
certain  of  fresh  meat  until  their  banquet  is 
finished. 

The  chase  is  over;  the  three  or  four  Crick- 
ets that  are  the  allotted  portion  of  each  cell 
are  stacked  methodically,  lying  on  their 
backs,  with  their  heads  at  the  far  end  of  the 
cell  and  their  feet  at  the  entrance.  An  egg 
is  laid  on  one  of  them.  The  burrow  must 
now  be  closed.  The  sand  resulting  from  the 
excavation,  which  is  lying  in  a  heap  outside 
the  front-door,  is  quickly  swept  backwards 
down  the  passage.  From  time  to  time,  some 
fair-sized  bits  of  gravel  are  picked  out 
singly,  by  scratching  the  heap  of  rubbish  with 
87 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

the  fore-feet,  and  carried  with  the  mandibles 
to  strengthen  the  crumbly  mass.  Should  the 
Wasp  find  none  within  reach  to  suit  her,  she 
goes  and  searches  for  them  in  the  neighbour- 
hood and  seems  to  choose  them  as  conscien- 
tiously as  a  mason  would  choose  the  chief 
stones  for  his  building.  Vegetable  remains, 
tiny  fragments  of  dead  leaves,  are  also  em- 
ployed. In  a  few  moments,  every  outward 
trace  of  the  underground  dwelling  has  dis- 
appeared; and,  if  we  have  not  been  careful 
to  mark,  the  site  of  the  abode,  it  becomes  im- 
possible for  the  most  watchful  eye  to  find  it 
again.  When  this  is  finished,  a  new  burrow 
is  dug,  provisioned  and  walled  up  as  often  as 
the  teeming  ovaries  demand.  Having  com- 
pleted the  laying  of  her  eggs,  the  Sphex  re- 
sumes her  careless,  vagrant  life,  until  the  first 
cold  snap  puts  an  end  to  her  well-filled  exist- 
ence. 

The  Sphex'  task  is  accomplished;  and  I 
will  finish  mine  with  an  examination  of  her 
weapon.  The  organ  destined  for  the  elabo- 
ration of  her  poison  consists  of  two  prettily- 
ramified  tubes,  ending  separately  in  a  com- 
mon reservoir  or  phial,  shaped  like  a  pea. 
From  this  phial  starts  a  slender  channel 


The  Three  Dagger-thrusts 

which  runs  down  the  axis  of  the  sting  and 
conducts  the  little  drop  of  poison  to  its  tip. 
The  dimensions  of  the  lancet  are  very  small 
and  not  such  as  one  would  expect  from  the 
size  of  the  Sphex  and  especially  from  the 
effects  which  its  prick  produces  on  the  Crick- 
ets. The  point  is  quite  smooth  and  entirely 
deprived  of  those  backward  indentations 
which  we  find  in  the  Hive-bee's  sting.  The 
reason  for  this  is  obvious.  The  bee  uses 
her  sting  only  to  avenge  an  injury,  even  at 
the  cost  of  her  life;  and  the  teeth  of  the 
dart  resist  its  withdrawal  from  the  wound 
and  thus  cause  mortal  ruptures  in  the  viscera 
at  the  extremity  of  the  abdomen.  What 
would  the  Sphex  have  done  with  a  weapon 
that  would  have  been  fatal  to  her  on  her  first 
expedition?  Supposing  that  the  dart  could 
be  withdrawn  in  spite  of  its  teeth,  I  doubt 
whether  any  Hymenopteron  using  her 
weapon  chiefly  to  wound  the  game  destined 
for  her  larvae  would  be  supplied  with  a 
toothed  sting.  With  her,  the  dirk  is  not  a 
show  weapon,  unsheathed  to  satisfy  revenge : 
revenge,  the  so-called  pleasure  of  the  gods, 
but  a  very  costly  pleasure,  for  the  vindictive 
Bee  sometimes  pays  for  it  with  her  life;  it 
89 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

is  an  implement  for  use,  a  tool,  on  which  the 
future  of  the  grubs  depends.  It  must  there- 
fore be  one  easy  to  wield  in  the  struggle  with 
the  captured  prey;  it  must  be  capable  of  being 
inserted  in  the  flesh  and  withdrawn  without 
the  least  hesitation,  a  condition  much  better 
fulfilled  by  a  smooth  than  by  a  barbed  blade. 
I  wished  to  find  out  at  my  own  expense  if 
the  Sphex'  sting  is  very  painful,  this  sting 
which  lays  low  sturdy  victims  with  terrible 
rapidity.  Well,  I  confess  with  profound  ad- 
miration that  it  is  insignificant  and  bears  no 
comparison,  for  intensity  of  pain,  with  the 
stings  of  the  irascible  Bees  and  Social  Wasps. 
It  hurts  so  little  that,  instead  of  using  the 
forceps,  I  would  not  scruple  to  take  in  my 
fingers  any  live  Sphex-wasps  that  I  needed  in 
my  experiments.  I  can  say  the  same  of  the 
different  Cerceres,  of  the  Philanthi,1  of  the 
Palari,  of  even  the  huge  Scolias,2  whose 
very  view  inspires  dismay,  and,  generally 
speaking,  of  all  the  Hunting  Wasps  that  I 
have  been  able  to  observe.  I  make  an  ex- 
ception of  the  Spider-huntresses,  the  Pom- 

^For  Philanthus  Apivorus,  the  Bee-eating  Wasp,  cf. 
Social  Life  in  the  Insect  World,  by  J.  H.  Fabre,  trans- 
lated by  Bernard  Miall:  chap.  xiii. —  Translator's  Note. 

2Cf.  The  Life  and  Love  of  the  Insect:  chap,  xi.— 
Translator's  Note. 

90 


The  Three  Dagger-thrusts 

pili ; 1  and  even  then  their  sting  is  much  less 
painful  than  the  Bees'. 

One  last  word:  we  know  how  furiously 
the  Hymenoptera  armed  with  a  purely  de- 
fensive dart,  the  Social  Wasps,  for  instance, 
rush  upon  him  who  is  bold  enough  to  disturb 
their  dwelling-house  and  punish  him  for  his 
temerity.  On  the  other  hand,  those  whose 
sting  is  intended  for  killing  game  are  very 
pacific,  as  though  they  were  aware  of  the  im- 
portance which  the  little  drop  of  poison  in 
their  phial  possesses  for  their  family.  This 
tiny  drop  is  the  safeguard  of  their  race,  I 
might  say,  its  livelihood ;  and  so  they  are  very 
economical  in  its  use,  reserving  it  for  the 
serious  business  of  the  chase,  without  any 
parade  of  vindictive  courage.  I  was  not  once 
punished  with  a  sting  when  I  established  my- 
self amid  the  villages  of  our  various  Hunt- 
ing Wasps,  though  I  overturned  their  nests 
and  stole  the  larvae  and  the  provisions.  You 
must  lay  hold  of  the  insect  to  make  it  use 
its  weapon;  and  even  then  it  does  not  always 
pierce  the  skin,  unless  you  place  within  its 
reach  a  part  more  delicate  than  the  fingers, 
such  as,  for  instance,  the  wrist. 

iCf.   The  Life  and  Love  of  the  Insect:   chap,  xii, — 
Translator's  Note. 

91 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   LARVA  AND  THE    NYMPH 

THE  egg  of  the  Yellow-winged  Sphex  is 
white,  elongated,  cylindrical,  slightly 
bow-shaped  and  measures  three  to  four  milli- 
metres l  in  length.  So  far  from  being  laid 
anywhere  on  the  victim,  at  random,  it  is  de- 
posited on  a  specially  favoured  spot,  which  is 
always  the  same;  in  short,  it  is  placed  across 
the  Cricket's  breast,  a  little  to  one  side,  be- 
tween the  first  and  second  pair  of  legs.  The 
egg  of  the  White-edged  Sphex  and  that  of 
the  Languedocian  Sphex  occupy  a  similar 
position:  the  first  on  the  breast  of  a  Locust, 
the  second  on  the  breast  of  an  Ephippiger.2 
The  point  selected  must  present  some  pe- 
culiarity of  great  importance  to  the  young 
larva's  safety,  for  I  have  never  known  it  to 
vary. 

The  egg  hatches  after  three  or  four  days. 
A  very  delicate  wrapper  tears  asunder;  and 
there  lies  before  our  eyes  a  feeble  grub, 

1.ii7  to  .156  inch. —  Translator's  Note. 
*A  species  of  Green  Grasshopper. — Translator's  Note. 
92 


The  Larva  and  the  Nymph 

transparent  as  crystal,  a  little  attenuated  and 
as  it  were  compressed  in  front,  slightly 
swollen  at  the  back  and  adorned  on  either 
side  with  a  narrow  white  thread  formed  of 
the  principal  trachean  ducts.  The  frail 
creature  occupies  the  same  position  as  the 
egg.  Its  head  is,  so  to  speak,  planted  at  the 
very  spot  where  the  upper  end  of  the  egg  was 
fixed;  and  all  the  remainder  simply  rests 
upon  the  victim,  without  being  fastened  to  it. 
The  grub's  transparency  enables  us  readily  to 
distinguish  rapid  undulations  inside  it,  ripples 
which  follow  one  upon  the  other  with  mathe- 
matical regularity  and  which,  beginning  in  the 
middle  of  the  body,  spread  some  forward 
and  some  backward.  These  fluctuating 
movements  are  due  to  the  digestive  canal, 
which  takes  long  draughts  of  the  juices  drawn 
from  the  victim's  body. 

Let  us  dwell  for  a  moment  upon  a  sight 
which  cannot  fail  to  attract  our  attention. 
The  Wasp's  prey  lies  on  its  back,  motionless. 
In  the  cell  of  the  Yellow-winged  Sphex,  it  is 
a  Cricket,  or  rather  three  or  four  Crickets 
stacked  one  atop  the  other;  in  the  cell  of  the 
Languedocian  Sphex,  it  is  a  single  head  of 
game,  but  large  in  proportion,  a  fat-bellied 
Ephippiger,  The  grub  is  lost  should  it  hap- 
93 


The.  Hunting  Wasps 

pen  to  be  torn  from  the  spot  whence  it  derives 
life;  a  fall  would  be  the  end  of  it,  for,  weak 
as  it  is  and  deprived  of  all  means  of  motion, 
how  could  it  make  its  way  back  to  the  spot  at 
which  it  slakes  its  appetite?  The  slightest 
movement  would  enable  the  victim  to  rid 
itself  of  the  atom  gnawing  at  its  entrails;  and 
yet  the  gigantic  prey  submits  meekly,  without 
the  least  quiver  of  protest.  I  well  know  that 
it  is  paralysed,  that  it  has  lost  the  use  of  its 
legs  through  the  sting  of  its  murderess;  but 
still,  recent  victim  that  it  is,  it  retains  more  or 
less  power  of  movement  and  sensation  in  the 
regions  not  affected  by  the  dart.  The  ab- 
domen throbs,  the  mandibles  open  and  close, 
the  abdominal  filaments  wave  to  and  fro,  as 
do  the  antennae.  What  would  happen  if  the 
worm  were  to  bite  into  one  of  the  still  im- 
pressionable parts,  near  the  mandibles,  or 
even  on  the  belly,  which,  being  more  tender 
and  more  succulent,  seems  as  though  it  ought, 
after  all,  to  supply  the  first  mouthfuls  of  the 
feeble  grub?  Bitten  to  the  quick,  the 
Cricket,  Locust  or  Ephippiger  would  at  least 
shiver;  and  this  faint  tremor  of  the  skin 
would  be  enough  to  shake  off  the  tiny  larva 
and  bring  it  to  the  ground,  where  it  would  no 
doubt  perish,  for  it  might  at  any  moment  find 
94 


The  Larva  and  the  Nymph 

itself  in  the  grips  of  those  dreadful  man- 
dibles. 

But  there  is  one  part  of  the  body  where  no 
such  danger  is  to  be  feared,  the  part  which 
the  Wasp  has  wounded  with  her  sting,  in 
short,  the  thorax.  Here  and  here  alone,  on 
a  victim  of  recent  date,  the  experimenter  can 
rummage  with  a  needle,  driving  it  through 
and  through,  without  producing  a  sign  of 
suffering  in  the  patient.  Well,  it  is  here  that 
the  egg  is  invariably  laid;  it  is  here  that  the 
young  larva  always  takes  its  first  bite  at  its 
prey.  Gnawed  at  a  point  no  longer  suscep- 
tible to  pain,  the  Cricket  remains  motionless. 
Later,  when  the  wound  has  reached  a  sensi- 
tive point,  he  will  doubtless  toss  about  to  such 
extent  as  he  can ;  but  then  it  will  be  too  late : 
his  torpor  will  be  too  deep;  and  besides  the 
enemy  will  have  gained  strength.  This  ex- 
plains why  the  egg  is  laid  on  a  spot  which 
never  varies,  near  the  wounds  caused  by  the 
sting,  in  short,  on  the  thorax:  not  in  the  mid- 
dle, where  the  skin  would  perhaps  be  too 
thick  for  the  new-born  grub,  but  on  one  side, 
towards  the  juncture  of  the  legs,  where  it  is 
much  thinner.  What  a  judicious  choice,  how 
logical  on  the  part  of  the  mother  when, 
underground,  in  complete  darkness,  she  dis- 
95 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

cerns  the  one  suitable  spot  on  the  victim  and 
selects  it  for  her  egg! 

I  have  reared  Sphex-grubs  by  giving  them, 
one  after  the  other,  the  Crickets  taken  from 
the  cells;  and  I  was  then  able  to  follow  day 
by  day  the  rapid  progress  of  my  nurselings. 
The  first  Cricket,  the  one  on  whom  the  egg 
was  laid,  is  attacked,  as  I  have  said,  near  the 
point  where  the  huntress  administered  her 
second  sting,  that  is  to  say,  between  the  first 
and  second  pair  of  legs.  In  a  few  days,  the 
young  larva  has  dug  in  the  victim's  breast  a 
hollow  large  enough  to  admit  half  its  body. 
It  is  not  uncommon  to  see  the  Cricket,  bitten 
to  the  quick,  uselessly  waving  his  antennae  and 
his  abdominal  threads,  opening  and  closing 
his  mandibles  on  space  and  even  moving  a 
leg.  But  the  enemy  is  safe  and  is  ransacking 
his  entrails  with  impunity.  What  an  awful 
nightmare  for  the  paralysed  Cricket ! 

The  first  ration  is  finished  in  six  or  seven 
days'  time;  none  of  it  remains  but  the  frame- 
work of  skin,  with  all  its  parts  more  or  less  in 
position.  The  larva,  whose  length  is  now 
twelve  millimetres,1  leaves  the  Cricket's  body 
through  the  hole  in  the  thorax  which  it  made 
to  start  with.  During  this  operation,  it 

Nearly  half  an  inch. — Translator's  Note, 
96 


The  Larva  and  the  Nymph 

moults;  and  its  cast  skin  often  remains  caught 
in  the  opening  through  which  it  made  its 
exit.  It  rests  after  the  moulting  and  then 
attacks  a  second  ration.  Being  stronger 
now,  the  larva  has  nothing  to  fear  from  the 
feeble  movements  of  the  Cricket,  whose 
daily-increasing  torpor  has  had  time  to  ex- 
tinguish the  last  glimmers  of  resisting-power 
during  the  week  and  more  that  have  elapsed 
since  the  dagger-thrusts  were  given.  It  is 
therefore  assailed  with  no  precautions, 
usually  at  the  belly,  which  is  the  tenderest 
part  and  the  richest  in  juices.  Soon  the  turn 
comes  of  the  third  Cricket  and  lastly  of  the 
fourth,  who  is  devoured  in  ten  hours  or  so. 
Of  these  last  three  victims,  all  that  remains 
is  the  tough  integuments,  whose  various  parts 
are  severed  one  by  one  and  carefully  emptied. 
If  a  fifth  ration  be  presented,  the  larva  scorns 
it,  or  hardly  touches  it,  not  from  abstemious- 
ness, but  from  imperious  necessity.  For  ob- 
serve that  hitherto  the  larva  has  ejected  no 
excrement  and  that  its  intestines,  into  which 
four  Crickets  have  been  crammed,  are  dis- 
tended to  bursting-point.  A  new  ration  can- 
not therefore  tempt  its  gluttony;  and  hence- 
forth it  thinks  only  of  making  itself  a  silken 
tabernacle. 

97 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

In  all,  its  repast  has  lasted  from  ten  to 
twelve  days  without  cessation.  At  this 
period,  the  larva's  length  measures  from 
twenty-five  to  thirty  millimetres  x  and  its 
greatest  breadth  from  five  to  six.2  Its  gen- 
eral outline,  spreading  a  little  at  the  back  and 
gradually  tapering  in  front,  conforms  with 
the  usual  type  of  Hymenopteron-grubs.  Its 
segments  are  fourteen  in  number,  including 
the  head,  which  is  very  small  and  armed  with 
weak  mandibles  that  would  appear  unequal  to 
the  part  which  they  have  just  played.  Of 
these  fourteen  segments,  the  middle  ones  are 
supplied  with  stigmata,  or  breathing-holes. 
Its  livery  consists  of  a  yellowish-white 
ground,  studded  with  innumerable  dots  of  a 
chalky  white. 

We  have  seen  the  larva  begin  its  second 
Cricket  with  the  belly,  the  juiciest  and  softest 
part.  Like  a  child,  which  first  licks  the  jam 
off  its  bread  and  then  bites  into  the  crumb 
with  a  disdainful  tooth,  the  larva  makes 
straight  for  the  best  part,  the  abdominal 
viscera,  and  leaves  until  later  the  meat  that 
has  to  be  patiently  extracted  from  its  horny 
sheath:  a  task  for  a  leisure  hour,  when  it 

*.975  to  1.17  inch. —  Translator's  Note. 
2.195  to  .234  inch. —  Translator's  Note. 

98 


The  Larva  and  the  Nymph 

is  comfortably  digesting  the  earlier  meal. 
Nevertheless,  the  grub,  when  quite  young, 
when  newly  hatched,  is  not  so  dainty:  it  goes 
for  the  bread  first  and  the  jam  afterwards. 
It  has  no  choice :  it  is  obliged  to  bite  its  first 
mouthful  right  out  of  the  breast,  at  the  spot 
where  the  mother  fixed  the  egg.  The  food 
here  is  a  little  harder,  but  the  place  is  safe, 
because  of  the  profound  inertia  into  which  the 
thorax  has  been  plunged  by  three  thrusts  of 
the  dagger.  Elsewhere  there  would  be,  if 
not  always,  at  least  often,  spasmodic  shud- 
ders which  would  dislodge  the  feeble  grub 
and  expose  it  to  terrible  hazards  among  a 
heap  of  victims  whose  hind-legs,  toothed  like 
saws,  might  give  an  occasional  jerk  and  whose 
mandibles  might  still  be  capable  of  snapping. 
It  is  therefore  the  question  of  safety  and  not 
of  the  grub's  likes  or  dislikes  that  determines 
the  mother's  choice  in  placing  the  egg. 

And  here  a  suspicion  occurs  to  my  mind. 
The  first  ration,  the  Cricket  on  whom  the  egg 
is  laid,  exposes  the  grub  to  more  parlous  risks 
than  do  the  others.  To  begin  with,  the  larva 
is  still  but  a  frail  worm ;  and  then  the  victim 
is  quite  a  recent  one  and  therefore  most  likely 
to  give  evidence  of  a  spark  of  life.  This 
first  victim  has  to  be  paralysed  as  completely 
99 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

as  possible:  consequently  it  receives  the 
Wasp's  three  dagger-thrusts.  But  the 
others,  whose  torpor  deepens  the  older  they 
grow,  the  others,  whom  the  larva  attacks 
after  it  has  gained  in  strength:  do  they  need 
to  be  operated  on  as  carefully?  Might  not 
one  prick  be  enough,  or  two  pricks,  the  effects 
of  which  would  spread  little  by  little  while  the 
grub  is  consuming  its  first  ration?  The 
poison-fluid  is  too  precious  for  the  Wasp  to 
lavish  it  unnecessarily:  it  is  hunting-ammuni- 
tion, to  be  employed  with  due  economy.  At 
any  rate,  though  I  have  witnessed  three  con- 
secutive stabs  given  to  the  same  victim,  at 
other  times  I  have  seen  only  two  ad- 
ministered. It  is  true  that  the  quivering  tip 
of  the  Sphex'  abdomen  seemed  to  be  seeking 
the  favourable  spot  for  a  third  wound;  but, 
if  it  was  really  given,  it  escaped  me.  I  should 
therefore  be  inclined  to  think  that  the  victim 
forming  the  first  ration  is  always  stabbed 
thrice,  whereas  the  others,  from  motives  of 
economy,  receive  only  two  stings.  Our  study 
of  the  Ammophilae,  who  hunt  Caterpillars, 
will  confirm  this  suspicion  later. 

After  devouring  the  last  Cricket,  the  larva 
sets  about  weaving  its  cocoon.     The  work 
is    finished    well    within    forty-eight    hours. 
100 


The  Larva  and  the  Nymph 

Henceforth,  the  skilful  worker,  safe  within 
her  impenetrable  shelter,  can  yield  to  the 
irresistible  lethargy  that  invades  her,  to  that 
nameless  mode  of  existence,  neither  sleep 
nor  waking,  neither  death  nor  life,  from 
which  she  will  emerge,  ten  months  from  now, 
transfigured.  Very  few  cocoons  are  so  com- 
plicated as  hers.  It  consists,  in  fact,  in 
addition  to  a  coarse  outer  network,  of  three 
distinct  layers,  presenting  the  appearance  of 
three  cocoons  one  inside  the  other.  Let  us 
examine  in  detail  these  several  courses  of  the 
silken  edifice. 

There  is  first  an  open  woof,  of  a  rough 
cobweb  texture,  whereon  the  larva  begins  by 
isolating  itself,  hanging  as  in  a  hammock,  to 
work  more  easily  at  the  cocoon  proper.  This 
unfinished  net,  hastily  woven  to  serve  as  a 
builder's  scaffolding,  is  made  of  threads  flung 
out  at  random,  which  hold  together  grains  of 
sand,  bits  of  earth  and  the  leavings  of  the 
larva's  feast:  the  Cricket's  thighs,  still  braided 
with  red,  his  shanks  and  pieces  of  his  skull. 
The  next  covering,  which  is  the  first  covering 
of  the  cocoon  proper,  consists  of  a  much- 
creased  felted  tunic,  light-red  in  colour,  very 
fine  and  very  flexible.  A  few  threads  flung 
out  here  and  there  join  it  to  the  previous  scaf- 
101 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

folding  and  to  the  second  wrapper.  It  forms 
a  cylindrical  wallet,  closed  on  every  side  and 
too  large  for  its  contents,  thus  causing  the 
surface  to  wrinkle. 

Next  comes  an  elastic  sheath,  distinctly 
smaller  than  the  wallet  that  contains  it,  almost 
cylindrical,  rounded  at  the  upper  end,  towards 
which  the  larva's  head  is  turned,  and  finishing 
in  a  blunt  cone  at  the  lower  end.  Its  colour 
is  still  light-red,  save  towards  the  cone  at  the 
bottom,  where  the  shade  is  darker.  Its  con- 
sistency is  pretty  firm;  nevertheless,  it  yields 
to  moderate  squeezing,  except  in  its  conical 
part,  which  resists  the  pressure  of  the  fingers 
and  seems  to  contain  a  hard  substance.  On 
opening  this  sheath,  we  see  that  it  is  formed 
of  two  layers  closely  applied  one  to  the  other, 
but  easily  separated.  The  outer  layer  is  a 
silk  felt,  exactly  like  that  of  the  wallet  which 
comes  before;  the  inner  layer,  the  third  layer 
of  the  cocoon,  is  a  sort  of  shellac,  a  shiny  wash 
of  a  dark  violet-brown,  brittle,  very  soft  to 
the  touch  and  of  a  nature  apparently  quite 
different  from  the  rest  of  the  cocoon.  We 
see,  in  fact,  under  the  microscope  that,  instead 
of  being  a  felt  of  silky  threads  like  the  previ- 
ous wrapper,  it  is  a  homogeneous  coating  of 
a  peculiar  varnish,  whose  origin  is  rather 
102 


The  Larva  and  the  Nymph 

singular,  as  we  shall  see.  As  for  the  re- 
sistance of  the  cone-shaped  end  of  the  cocoon, 
we  discover  that  this  is  due  to  a  plug  of 
crumbly  matter,  violet-black  and  sparkling 
with  a  number  of  black  particles.  This  plug 
is  the  dried  mass  of  the  excrement  which  the 
larva  ejects,  once  and  for  all,  inside  the 
cocoon  itself.  The  same  stercoral  kernel  also 
causes  the  darker  shade  of  the  cone-shaped 
end  of  the  cocoon.  The  complicated  dwell- 
ing averages  twenty-seven  millimetres  in 
length,  while  its  greatest  width  is  nine  milli- 
metres.1 

Let  us  return  to  the  violet  varnish  that  lines 
the  inside  of  the  cocoon.  I  thought  at  first 
that  I  must  attribute  it  to  the  silk-glands, 
which,  after  giving  a  glossy  coat  to  the  double 
wrapper  of  silk  and  the  scaffolding,  have  still 
a  secret  store  of  the  fluid.  To  convince  my- 
self, I  opened  some  larvae  which  had  just 
finished  their  work  as  weavers  and  had  not 
yet  begun  to  apply  their  lacquer.  At  that 
period,  I  saw  no  trace  of  violet  fluid  in  the 
silk-glands.  This  shade  is  found  only  in  the 
digestive  canal,  which  bulges  with  a  purple- 
coloured  pulp;  we  find  it  also,  but  later,  in 
the  stercoral  plug  relegated  to  the  lower  end 

1i.o5  X  .35  inch. —  Translator's  Note. 

103 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

of  the  cocoon.  With  this  exception,  every- 
thing is  white,  or  faintly  tinged  with  yellow. 
Far  be  it  from  me  to  suggest  that  the  larva 
plasters  its  cocoon  with  its  excreta;  and  yet  I 
am  convinced  that  this  plaster  is  a  product  of 
the  digestive  organs  and  I  suspect,  though  I 
cannot  say  for  certain  —  having  been  clumsy 
enough  several  times  to  miss  a  favourable 
opportunity  of  making  sure  —  that  the  larva 
disgorges  and  applies  with  its  mouth  the 
quintessence  of  the  purple  pulp  from  its 
stomach  in  order  to  form  the  shellac  glaze. 
Only  after  this  last  performance  would  it 
reject  its  digestive  residuum  in  a  single  lump; 
and  this  would  explain  the  unpleasant  neces- 
sity in  which  the  larva  finds  itself  of  making 
room  for  its  excreta  inside  its  actual  habita- 
tion. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  there  can  be  no  doubt 
about  the  usefulness  of  the  coating  of  shellac; 
its  complete  impermeability  must  protect  the 
larva  against  the  damp  which  would  certainly 
attack  it  in  the  precarious  refuge  dug  for  it 
by  the  mother.  Remember  that  the  larva  is 
buried  only  a  few  inches  down  in  uncovered, 
sandy  ground.  To  judge  to  what  extent  the 
cocoons  thus  varnished  are  able  to  resist  the 
damp,  I  kept  some  steeped  in  water  for 
104 


The  Larva  and  the  Nymph 

several  days  on  end,  without  afterwards  find- 
ing a  trace  of  moisture  inside  them.  Com- 
pare the  Sphex'  cocoon,  with  its  manifold 
linings,  which  are  so  well-adapted  for  the 
protection  of  the  larva  in  an  unprotected 
burrow,  with  the  cocoon  of  the  Great  Cer- 
ceris,  lying  under  the  dry  shelter  of  a  slab  of 
sandstone  and  at  a  distance  of  eighteen  or 
twenty  inches  underground:  this  cocoon  has 
the  shape  of  a  very  long  pear,  with  the  nar- 
row end  lopped  off.  It  consists  of  a  single 
silken  wrapper,  so  thin  and  fine  that  the  larva 
shows  through  it.  In  my  numerous  ento- 
mological investigations,  I  have  always  seen 
the  larva's  industry  and  the  mother's  thus 
making  good  each  other's  deficiencies.  In  a 
deep,  well-sheltered  abode,  the  cocoon  is  of  a 
light  material;  in  a  surface  dwelling,  exposed 
to  the  inclemencies  of  the  weather,  the  cocoon 
is  stoutly  built, 

Nine  months  elapse,  during  which  a  task  is 
performed  wherein  all  is  mystery.  I  skip 
this  period,  filled  with  the  dead  secret  of  the 
transformation,  and,  to  come  to  the  nymph, 
pass  at  once  from  the  end  of  September  to  the 
first  days  of  the  following  June.  The  larva 
has  cast  its  withered  slough;  the  nymph,  that 
transitory  organism,  or  rather  that  perfect 
105 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

insect  in  swaddling-bands,  motionlessly  awaits 
the  awakening  which  will  not  take  place  for 
another  month  to  come.  The  legs,  the 
antennae,  the  exposed  mouth-parts  and  the 
wing-stumps  have  the  appearance  of  clearest 
crystal  and  lie  evenly  spread  under  the  thorax 
and  the  abdomen.  The  rest  of  the  body  is 
an  opaque  white,  very  faintly  smeared  with 
yellow.  The  middle  four  segments  of  the 
abdomen  carry  a  narrow  and  blunt  extension 
on  either  side.  The  last  segment,  termina- 
ting above  in  a  blade-like  expansion  shaped 
like  the  sector  of  a  circle,  is  equipped  below 
with  two  conical  protuberances  set  side  by 
side:  this  makes  in  all  eleven  appendages 
studding  the  outline  of  the  abdomen.  Such 
is  the  delicate  creature  which,  to  become  a 
Sphex,  must  don  a  motley  livery  of  black  and 
red  and  throw  off  the  fine  skin  in  which  it  is 
closely  swathed. 

I  was  curious  to  follow  from  day  to  day 
the  appearance  and  the  progress  of  the 
nymph's  colouring  and  to  test  whether  the 
light  of  the  sun,  that  rich  palette  whence  na- 
ture derives  her  colours,  could  influence  that 
progress.  With  this  object,  I  took  pupae 
from  their  cocoons  and  put  them  in  glass 
tubes,  of  which  some,  kept  in  complete  dart 
106 


The  Larva  and  the  Nymph 

ness,  realized  the  natural  conditions  of  the 
nymphs  and  served  me  as  a  standard  of  com- 
parison, while  the  others,  hung  against  a 
white  wall,  received  a  strong  diffused  light 
throughout  the  day.  Under  these  diametric- 
ally opposed  conditions,  the  evolution  of  the 
colours  remained  absolutely  uniform  in  both 
cases,  or,  if  there  were  some  slight  dis- 
crepancies, these  were  to  the  disadvantage  of 
the  pupae  exposed  to  the  light.  It  is,  there- 
fore, exactly  the  reverse  of  what  happens  in 
the  case  of  plants:  light  does  not  affect  the 
colouring  of  insects,  does  not  even  accelerate 
the  process;  and  this  must  be  so,  because,  in 
the  species  which  are  the  most  brilliant  in 
colouring,  the  Buprestes  and  Ground-beetles, 
for  instance,  the  wondrous  hues  which  one 
would  imagine  to  be  stolen  from  a  sunbeam 
are  really  elaborated  in  the  dusky  bowels  of 
the  earth  or  deep  down  in  the  decaying  trunk 
of  some  venerable  tree. 

The  first  outlines  of  colour  show  on  the 
eyes,  whose  faceted  cornea  changes  success- 
ively from  white  to  fawn,  next  to  slate-grey, 
lastly  to  black.  The  simple  eyes  at  the  top 
of  the  forehead,  the  ocelli,  share  in  this 
colouring,  in  their  turn,  before  the  rest  of  the 
body  has  yet  lost  any  of  its  neutral,  white 
107 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

tint.  It  should  be  remarked  that  this  early 
development  of  the  most  delicate  organ,  the 
eye,  is  general  in  all  animals.  Later,  a 
smoky  line  appears  on  the  upper  part  of  the 
groove  separating  the  mesothorax  and  the 
metathorax;  and,  twenty-four  hours  later,  the 
whole  back  of  the  metathorax  is  black.  At 
the  same  time,  the  edge  of  the  prothorax  be- 
comes shaded,  a  black  dot  appears  in  the 
central  and  upper  part  of  the  metathorax  and 
the  mandibles  assume  a  rusty  tinge.  Gradu- 
ally a  deeper  and  deeper  shade  creeps  over 
the  two  end  segments  of  the  thorax  and 
finally  reaches  the  head  and  the  hind-quarters. 
A  day  is  enough  to  turn  the  smoky  hue  of  the 
head  and  of  the  end  segments  deep  black. 
Thereupon  the  abdomen  begins  to  share  in 
the  rapidly-increasing  coloration.  The  edge 
of  its  front  segments  is  tinted  saffron;  and  its 
hinder  segments  acquire  a  dull-black  border. 
Lastly,  the  antennae  and  legs,  after  passing 
through  darker  and  darker  shades,  turn 
black;  the  lower  part  of  the  abdomen  is  now 
entirely  orange-red  and  the  tip  black.  The 
livery  is  complete  except  for  the  tarsi  and  the 
mouth-parts,  which  are  a  transparent  red, 
and  the  wing-stumps,  which  are  dull  black. 
108 


The  Larva  and  the  Nymph 

In  four-and-twenty  hours  the  nymph  will 
burst  its  fetters. 

It  takes  the  nymph  only  six  or  seven  days 
to  don  its  final  tints,  omitting  the  eyes,  whose 
colouring  precedes  that  of  the  rest  of  the 
body  by  fourteen  or  fifteen  days.  The  law 
governing  the  insect's  chromatic  evolution  is 
easily  gathered  from  this  brief  sketch.  We 
see  that,  with  the  exception  of  the  eyes  and  the 
ocelli,  whose  early  development  recalls  what 
takes  place  in  the  higher  animals,  the  start- 
ing-point of  the  coloration  is  a  central  spot, 
the  mesothorax,  whence  it  gradually  invades, 
by  centrifugal  progression,  first  the  rest  of 
the  thorax,  then  the  head  and  abdomen,  lastly 
the  different  appendages,  the  legs  and  an- 
tennae. The  tarsi  and  the  mouth-parts  col- 
our later  still;  and  the  wings  do  not  assume 
their  hue  until  after  they  are  taken  from 
their  cases. 

We  now  have  the  Sphex  arrayed  in  her 
livery.  She  has  yet  to  cast  her  nymphal 
wrapper.  This  is  a  very  fine  tunic,  moulded 
exactly  in  accordance  with  the  smallest  struc- 
tural details  and  scarcely  veiling  the  shape 
and  colours  of  the  perfect  insect.  As  a  pre- 
lude to  the  last  act  of  the  metamorphosis,  the 
109 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

Sphex,  suddenly  shaking  off  her  torpor,  begins 
to  move  about  violently,  as  though  to  call  her 
long-numbed  limbs  to  life.  The  abdomen  is 
alternately  lengthened  and  shortened;  the 
legs  are  abruptly  extended,  then  bent,  then 
extended  again;  and  their  different  joints  are 
stiffened  with  an  effort.  The  insect,  using  its 
head  and  the  tip  of  its  abdomen  as  a  lever, 
with  the  ventral  surface  underneath,  repeat- 
edly distends  with  vigorous  jerks  the  joint  of 
the  neck  and  that  of  the  peduncle  connecting 
the  abdomen  and  the  thorax.  At  last  its 
efforts  are  crowned  with  success;  and,  after 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  of  these  rough  gym- 
nastics, the  scabbard,  tugged  in  every  direc- 
tion, rips  open  at  the  neck,  at  the  point  where 
the  legs  are  attached  and  near  the  peduncle  of 
the  abdomen,  in  short,  wherever  the  mobility 
of  the  parts  has  permitted  any  violent  dis- 
location to  take  place. 

All  these  rents  in  the  veil  that  is  being  cast 
result  in  a  number  of  irregular  shreds,  where- 
of the  largest  envelops  the  abdomen  and  runs 
up  the  back  of  the  thorax.  To  this  shred  be- 
long the  wing-cases.  A  second  shred  covers 
the  head.  Lastly,  each  leg  has  its  own 
sheath,  more  or  less  badly  treated  near  the 
base.  The  large  shred,  which  in  itself  forms 
MQ 


The  Larva  and  the  Nymph 

the  best  part  of  the  wrapper,  is  thrown  off  by 
means  of  alternate  contractions  and  expan- 
sions of  the  abdomen.  By  this  mechanical 
process  it  is  slowly  forced  backwards,  where 
it  ends  by  forming  a  little  pellet  that  for  some 
time  remains  fastened  to  the  insect  by  the 
tracheal  gills.  The  Sphex  then  once  more 
becomes  motionless;  and  the  operation  is  over. 
However,  the  head,  antennae  and  legs  are  still 
more  or  less  veiled.  It  is  evident  that  the 
legs  in  particular  cannot  be  freed  all  in  one 
piece,  because  of  the  numerous  excrescences 
or  spines  with  which  they  are  armed.  These 
different  shreds  of  skin  dry  up  on  the  insect 
and  are  removed  afterwards  by  rubbing  the 
legs.  It  is  not  until  the  Sphex  has  acquired 
her  full  vigour  that  she  finishes  her  moulting 
by  brushing,  smoothing  and  combing  her 
whole  body  with  her  tarsi. 

The  way  in  which  the  wings  come  out  of 
their  sheaths  is  the  most  remarkable  part  of 
the  sloughing.  In  their  incomplete  stump 
stage,  they  are  folded  lengthwise  and  are  very 
much  compressed.  It  is  easy  to  extract  them 
from  their  cases  a  little  while  before  the 
normal  date  of  their  appearance;  but  then 
they  remain  permanently  contracted  and  do 
not  fill  out.  On  the  other  hand,  when  once 
iii 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

the  large  strip  of  skin  to  which  the  sheaths 
of  the  wings  belong  is  pushed  back  by  the 
movements  of  the  abdomen,  we  see  the  wings 
come  slowly  out  of  their  cases  and  straight- 
way, as  they  become  free,  assume  dimensions 
out  of  all  proportion  to  the  narrow  prison 
whence  they  emerge.  They  are  therefore 
the  seat  of  an  abundant  rush  of  vital  fluids 
which  swell  them  and  spread  them  out  and 
which,  owing  to  the  inflation  which  they  pro- 
voke, must  be  the  chief  cause  of  the  wings' 
emergence  from  their  cases.  When  newly 
expanded,  the  wings  are  heavy,  full  of  juices 
and  of  a  very  pale  straw-colour.  If  the  rush 
of  the  fluids  takes  place  irregularly,  we  then 
see  the  end  of  the  wing  weighed  down  by  a 
little  yellow  drop  contained  between  the  two 
scales. 

After  stripping  herself  of  the  abdominal 
sheath,  which  carries  the  wing-cases  with  it, 
the  Sphex  relapses  into  immobility  for  about 
three  days.  During  this  time,  the  wings 
assume  their  normal  hue,  the  tarsi  become 
coloured  and  the  mouth-parts,  at  first  ex- 
tended, adopt  their  proper  position.  After 
twenty-four  days  spent  in  the  nymphal  stage, 
the  insect  has  achieved  the  perfect  state.  It 
tears  the  cocoon  that  holds  it  captive,  opens 
m 


The  Larva  and  the  Nymph 

itself  a  passage  through  the  sand  and  comes 
out  one  fine  morning  into  the  light  of  day, 
undazzled  by  that  hitherto  unknown  radiance. 
Bathed  in  sunshine,  the  Sphex  brushes  her 
antennae  and  her  wings,  passes  and  repasses 
her  legs  over  her  abdomen,  washes  her  eyes 
with  her  front  tarsi  wetted  with  saliva,  like  a 
cat;  and,  her  toilet  finished,  flies  away  joy- 
fully :  she  has  two  months  to  live. 

You  pretty  Sphex-wasps  hatched  before 
my  eyes,  brought  up  by  my  hand,  ration  by 
ration,  on  a  bed  of  sand  in  an  old  quill-box; 
you  whose  transformations  I  have  followed 
step  by  step,  starting  up  from  my  sleep  in 
alarm  lest  I  should  have  missed  the  moment 
when  the  nymph  is  bursting  its  swaddling- 
bands  or  the  wing  leaving  its  case;  you  who 
have  taught  me  so  much  and  learnt  nothing 
yourselves,  knowing  without  teachers  all  that 
you  have  to  know :  O  my  pretty  Sphex-wasps, 
fly  away  without  fear  of  my  tubes,  my  boxes, 
my  bottles,  or  any  of  my  receptacles,  through 
this  warm  sunlight  beloved  of  the  Cicadae; l 
go,  but  beware  of  the  Praying  Mantis,2  who 
is  plotting  your  ruin  on  the  flowering  heads 

!Cf.  Social  Life  in  the  Insect  World:  chaps,  i.  to  iv. — 
Translator's  Note. 

2Cf.  Social  Life  in  the  Insect  World:  chaps,  v.  to  vii. 
—  Translator's  Note. 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

of  the  thistles,  and  mind  the  Lizard,  who  is 
lying  in  wait  for  you  on  the  sunny  slopes;  go 
in  peace,  dig  your  burrows,  stab  your  Crickets 
scientifically  and  continue  your  kind,  to  pro- 
cure one  day  for  others  what  you  have  given 
me:  the  few  moments  of  happiness  in  my 
lifel 


114 


CHAPTER  VII 

ADVANCED   THEORIES 

THE  species  of  the  genus  Sphex  are  fairly 
numerous,  but  are  for  the  most  part 
strangers  to  my  country.  As  far  as  I  know, 
the  French  fauna  numbers  only  three,  all 
lovers  of  the  hot  sun  of  the  olive  district, 
namely,  the  Yellow-winged  Sphex  (Sphex 
flavipennis) ,  the  White-edged  Sphex  (S. 
albisecta}  and  the  Languedocian  Sphex  (S. 
occitanica).  Now  it  is  not  without  a  lively 
interest  that  the  observer  notices  in  the  case 
of  these  three  freebooters  a  choice  of  pro- 
visions which  is  in  strict  accordance  with  the 
rigid  laws  of  entomological  classification. 
To  feed  their  grubs,  all  three  choose  solely 
Orthoptera.1  The  first  hunts  Crickets,  the 
second  Locusts,  the  third  Ephippigers. 

The  prey  selected  have  such  great  outward 
differences  one  from  the  other  that  to  asso- 
ciate them  and  grasp  their  similarity  calls  for 

^he  order  of  insects  including  Earwigs,  Cockroaches, 
Mantes,  Crickets,  Locusts  and  Grasshoppers. —  Trans- 
lator's Note. 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

the  practised  eye  of  the  entomologist  or  the 
no  less  experienced  eye  of  the  Sphex.  Pray 
compare  the  Cricket  with  the  Locust:  the 
first  has  a  large,  round,  stumpy  head,  is  short 
and  thickset  and  black  all  over,  with  red 
stripes  on  his  hinder  thighs;  the  second  is 
greyish  in  colour,  long  and  slim,  with  a  small, 
tapering  head,  leaps  forward  by  suddenly  un- 
bending his  long  hind-legs  and  continues  this 
flight  with  wings  furled  like  a  fan.  Next 
compare  both  of  these  with  the  Ephippiger, 
who  carries  his  musical  instrument,  two  shrill 
cymbals  shaped  like  concave  scales,  on  his 
back  and  who  waddles  along  with  his  pendu- 
lous belly,  ringed  pale-green  and  buttercup- 
yellow  and  armed  with  a  long  dirk.  Place 
the  three  side  by  side  and  you  will  agree  with 
me  that,  to  guide  her  in  choosing  between 
such  dissimilar  species,  while  still  keeping  to 
the  same  entomological  order,  the  Sphex  must 
have  an  eye  so  expert  that  no  man  —  not 
your  ordinary  layman,  but  a  man  of  science 
—  need  be  ashamed  to  own  it. 

In  the  face  of  these  singular  predilections, 
which  seem  to  have  had  their  limits  laid  down 
for  them  by  some  master  of  classification,  by 
a  Latreille,  for  instance,  it  becomes  interest- 
ing to  investigate  whether  the  Sphex-wasps 
116 


Advanced  Theories 

that  are  not  natives  of  our  country  hunt  game 
of  the  same  order.  Unfortunately,  informa- 
tion on  this  point  is  scanty  and,  in  the  case  of 
most  of  the  species,  is  lacking  altogether. 
The  chief  cause  of  this  regrettable  lacuna  is 
the  superficial  method  generally  adopted. 
People  catch  an  insect,  stick  a  long  pin 
through  it,  fix  it  in  the  cork-bottomed  box, 
gum  a  label  with  a  Latin  name  underneath 
its  feet  and  let  its  history  end  there.  It  is  not 
thus  that  I  understand  the  duties  of  an  ento- 
mological biographer.  It  is  no  use  telling 
me  that  this  or  that  species  has  so  many  joints 
to  its  antennae,  so  many  nervures  to  its  wings, 
so  many  hairs  on  a  region  of  the  belly  or 
thorax;  I  do  not  really  know  the  insect  until 
I  am  acquainted  with  its  manner  of  life,  its 
instincts  and  its  habits. 

And  see  the  immense  and  luminous  ad- 
vantage which  a  description  of  this  kind,  told 
in  two  or  three  words,  would  possess  over 
those  long  descriptive  details,  sometimes  so 
hard  to  grasp.  Suppose  that  you  wish  to 
make  the  Languedocian  Sphex  known  to  me 
and  you  begin  by  describing  the  number  and 
distribution  of  the  nervures  of  the  wings;  you 
speak  to  me  of  cubital  nervures  and  recur- 
rent nervures.  Next  comes  the  insect's  pen- 
ny 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

portrait.  Black  here,  rusty  red  there,  smoky 
brown  at  the  tips  of  the  wings;  black  velvet 
in  this  part,  silvery  down  in  that,  a  smooth 
surface  in  a  third.  It  is  all  very  definite  and 
minute:  we  must  do  this  much  justice  to  the 
precision  and  patience  of  the  narrator;  but  it 
is  very  long  and  also  it  is  by  no  means  always 
clear,  so  much  so  that  we  may  be  excused  if  we 
are  not  quite  able  to  follow  it,  even  when  we 
are  not  altogether  new  to  the  business.  But 
add  to  the  tedious  description  merely  this: 
"  Hunts  Ephippigers;  "  and  these  two  words 
at  once  shed  light:  there  is  no  possibility  of 
my  now  mistaking  my  Sphex,  for  she  alone 
possesses  the  monopoly  of  that  particular 
prey.  To  give  this  illuminating  note,  what 
would  be  needed?  The  habit  of  really  ob- 
serving and  of  not  making  entomology  con- 
sist of  so  many  series  of  impaled  insects. 

But  let  us  pass  on  and  examine  the  little 
that  is  known  about  the  hunting-methods  of 
the  foreign  Sphex-wasps.  I  open  Lepeletier 
de  Saint-Fargeau's  l  Natural  History  of 

*Amtdtt  Comte  Lepeletier  de  Saint-Fargeau  (1769- 
circa  1850),  author  of  an  Histoire  naturelle  des  insectes 
(1836-1846)  and  of  the  volume  on  insects  in  the  Ency- 
clopidie  mtthodique.  He  was  a  younger  brother  of 
Louis  Michel  and  Felix  Lepeletier  de  Saint-Fargeau,  the 
members  of  the  Convention. —  Translator's  Note. 

118 


Advanced  Theories 

Hymenoptera  and  find  that,  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Mediterranean,  in  our  Algerian 
provinces,  the  Yellow-winged  Sphex  and  the 
White-edged  Sphex  retain  the  same  habits 
that  characterize  them  here.  They  capture 
Orthoptera  in  the  land  of  palm-trees  even  as 
they  do  in  the  land  of  olive-trees.  Though 
separated  from  the  others  by  the  vast  width 
of  the  sea,  the  hunting  compatriots  of  the 
Kabyles  and  the  Berbers  pursue  the  same 
game  as  their  kindred  in  Provence.  I  also 
see  that  a  fourth  species,  the  African  Sphex 
(S.  afro] ,  is  the  scourge  of  the  Locusts  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Oran.  Lastly,  I  remember 
reading,  I  forget  where,  of  a  fifth  species 
which  also  wages  war  on  Locusts  in  the 
steppes  near  the  Caspian.  Thus,  on  the 
borders  of  the  Mediterranean,  we  have  five 
different  species  of  Sphex,  whose  larvae  all  live 
on  a  diet  of  Orthoptera. 

Now  let  us  cross  the  equator  and  go  right 
down  to  the  southern  hemisphere,  to  the 
islands  of  Mauritius  and  Reunion:  we  shall 
here  find  not  a  Sphex,  but  a  closely-allied 
Wasp  of  the  same  tribe,  the  Compressed 
Chlorion,  hunting  the  horrible  Kakerlak,  that 
ravager  of  the  foodstuffs  in  the  ships  and 
harbours  of  the  colonies.  These  Kakerlaks 
119 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

are  none  other  than  Cockroaches,  whereof 
one  species  haunts  our  dwellings.  Who  does 
not  know  the  evil-smelling  insect,  which, 
thanks  to  its  flat  body,  like  that  of  a  huge  Bug, 
slips  at  night  through  the  gaps  in  furniture 
and  the  crannies  of  partitions  and  invades  any 
place  containing  provisions  to  be  devoured? 
This  is  the  Blackbeetle  of  our  houses,  a  dis- 
gusting counterpart  of  the  no  less  disgusting 
prey  beloved  of  the  Chlorion.  What  is  there 
about  the  Kakerlak  to  cause  him  to  be  selected 
as  a  prey  by  a  near  cousin  of  our  Sphex- 
wasps?  It  is  quite  simple:  with  his  Bug 
shape,  the  Kakerlak  also  is  an  Orthopteron, 
just  as  much  as  the  Cricket,  the  Ephippiger 
or  the  Locust.  From  these  six  examples,  the 
only  ones  known  to  me  and  of  such  different 
origins,  we  might  perhaps  deduce  that  all  the 
Sphex  hunt  Orthoptera.  At  any  rate,  with- 
out adopting  so  general  a  conclusion,  we  see 
what  the  food  of  their  larvae  must  be  in  most 
cases. 

There  is  a  reason  for  this  surprising  choice. 
What  is  it?  What  are  the  grounds  for  a  diet 
which,  within  the  strict  limits  of  one  ento- 
mological order,  is  composed  here  of  stinking 
Kakerlaks,  there  of  somewhat  dry,  but  highly- 
flavoured  Locusts,  elsewhere  again  of  plump 
120 


Advanced  Theories 

Crickets  or  fat  Ephippigers?  I  confess  that 
I  cannot  tell,  that  I  am  absolutely  in  the  dark ; 
and  I  leave  the  problem  to  others.  At  the 
same  time,  we  may  observe  that  the  Orthop- 
tera  are  among  insects  what  the  Ruminants 
are  among  mammals.  Endowed  with  a 
mighty  paunch  and  a  placid  temperament, 
they  graze  contentedly  and  soon  put  on  flesh. 
They  are  numerous,  widely  distributed  and 
slow  in  movement,  which  renders  them  easy 
to  catch;  moreover,  they  are  of  a  large  size, 
making  fine  heads  of  game.  Who  can  say 
if  the  Sphex-wasps,  powerful  huntresses,  re- 
quiring big  prey,  do  not  find  in  these  Rumi- 
nants of  the  insect  world  what  we  ourselves 
find  in  our  domestic  Ruminants,  the  Sheep  and 
the  Ox,  peaceable  victims  yielding  plenty  of 
flesh?  It  is  just  a  possibility,  but  no  more. 
I  have  something  better  than  a  possibility 
to  offer  in  reply  to  another  and  no  less  im- 
portant question.  Do  the  Orthopteron-eat- 
ers  ever  vary  their  diet?  Should  the  favour- 
ite type  of  game  fall  short,  can  they  not  accept 
a  different  one?  Does  the  Languedocian 
Sphex  consider  that  there  is  nothing  in  the 
world  worth  having  but  fat  Ephippigers? 
Does  the  White-edged  Sphex  allow  none  but 
Locusts  to  figure  on  her  table ;  and  the  Yellow- 

121 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

winged  Sphex  none  but  Crickets?  Or,  ac- 
cording to  time,  place  and  circumstances,  does 
each  make  up  for  the  lack  of  her  favourite 
victuals  by  others  more  or  less  equivalent? 
To  ascertain  such  facts,  if  they  exist,  would  be 
of  the  greatest  importance,  for  they  would  tell 
us  if  the  inspirations  of  instinct  are  absolute 
and  unchangeable,  or  if  they  vary  and  within 
what  limits.  It  is  true  that  the  cells  of  one 
and  the  same  Cerceris  contain  the  most  varied 
species  of  either  the  Buprestis  or  the  Weevil 
group,  which  shows  that  the -huntress  has  a 
great  latitude  of  choice;  but  this  extension  of 
the  hunting-fields  cannot  be  presumed  in  the 
case  of  the  Sphex-wasps,  whom  I  have  seen  so 
faithful  to  an  exclusive  victim,  always  the 
same  for  each  of  them,  and  who  moreover 
find,  among  the  Orthoptera,  groups  that  differ 
very  widely  in  shape.  Nevertheless,  I  have 
had  the  good  fortune  to  come  upon  one  case, 
one  only,  of  complete  change  in  the  larva's 
nourishment;  and  I  record  it  the  more  will- 
ingly in  the  Sphegian  archives  inasmuch  as 
such  facts,  scrupulously  observed,  will  one 
day  form  foundation-stones  for  any  one  who 
cares  to  build  up  the  psychology  of  instinct 
on  a  solid  basis. 

Here  are  the  facts.     The  scene  is  enacted 
122 


Advanced  Theories 

on  a  towing-path  along  the  Rhone.  On  one 
side  is  the  mighty  stream,  with  its  roaring 
waters;  on  the  other  is  a  thick  hedge  of 
osiers,  willows  and  reeds;  between  the  two 
runs  a  narrow  walk,  with  a  carpet  of  fine 
sand.  A  Yellow-winged  Sphex  appears, 
hopping  along,  dragging  her  prey.  What  do 
I  see !  The  prey  is  not  a  Cricket,  but  a  com- 
mon Acridian,  a  Locust !  And  yet  the  Wasp 
is  really  the  Sphex  with  whom  I  am  so 
familiar,  the  Yellow-winged  Sphex,  the  keen 
Cricket-huntress.  I  can  hardly  believe  the 
evidence  of  my  own  eyes. 

The  burrow  is  not  far  off :  the  insect  enters 
it  and  stores  away  the  booty.  I  sit  down,  de- 
termined to  wait  for  a  new  expedition,  to  wait 
hours  if  necessary,  so  that  I  may  see  if  the 
extraordinary  capture  is  repeated.  My  sit- 
ting attitude  makes  me  take  up  the  whole 
width  of  the  path.  Two  raw  conscripts 
heave  in  sight,  their  hair  newly  cut,  wearing 
that  inimitable  automaton  look  which  the 
first  days  of  barrack-life  bestow.  They  are 
chatting  together,  talking  no  doubt  of  home 
and  the  girl  they  left  behind  them;  and  each 
is  innocently  whittling  a  willow-switch  with 
his  knife.  I  am  seized  with  a  sudden  ap- 
prehension. Ah,  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  ex- 
123 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

periment  on  the  public  road,  where,  when  the 
long-awaited  event  occurs  at  last,  the  arrival 
of  a  wayfarer  is  likely  to  disturb  or  ruin 
opportunities  that  may  never  return !  I  rise, 
anxiously,  to  make  way  for  the  conscripts;  I 
stand  back  in  the  osier-bed  and  leave  the 
narrow  passage  free.  To  do  more  would 
have  been  unwise.  To  say,  "  Don't  go  this 
way,  my  good  lads,"  would  have  made  bad 
worse.  They  would  have  suspected  some 
trap  hidden  under  the  sand,  giving  rise  to 
questions  to  which  no  reply  that  I  could  have 
made  would  have  sounded  satisfactory.  Be- 
sides, my  request  would  have  turned  those 
idlers  into  lookers-on,  very  embarrassing  com- 
pany in  such  studies.  I  therefore  got  up 
without  speaking  and  trusted  to  my  lucky  star. 
Alas  and  alack,  my  star  betrayed  me:  the 
heavy  regulation  boot  came  straight  down 
upon  the  ceiling  of  the  Sphex!  A  shudder 
ran  through  me  as  though  I  myself  had  re- 
ceived the  impress  of  the  hobnailed  sole. 

When  the  conscripts  had  passed,  I  pro- 
ceeded to  save  what  I  could  of  the  ruined 
burrow's  contents.  The  Sphex  was  there, 
crushed  and  mangled;  and  with  her  not  only 
the  Locust  whom  I  had  seen  carried  down, 
but  two  others  as  well,  making  three  Locusts 
124 


Advanced  Theories 

in  all  instead  of  the  usual  Crickets.  What 
was  the  reason  of  this  curious  change  ?  Were 
there  no  Crickets  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
burrow  and  was  the  distressed  Wasp  making 
up  for  them  with  Locusts :  a  case  of  Hobson's 
choice,  in  fact?  I  hesitate  to  believe  it,  for 
there  was  nothing  about  the  neighbourhood 
to  warrant  the  supposition  that  the  favourite 
game  was  absent.  Another,  luckier  than  I, 
will  unriddle  this  new  and  unknown  mystery. 
The  fact  remains  that  the  Yellow-winged 
Sphex,  either  from  imperious  necessity  or  for 
some  reason  that  escapes  me,  sometimes  re- 
places her  chosen  prey,  the  Cricket,  with 
another  prey,  the  Locust,  presenting  no  ex- 
ternal resemblance  to  the  first,  but  itself  also 
an  Orthopteron. 

The  observer  on  whose  authority  Lepele- 
tier  de  Saint-Fargeau  says  a  word  or  two 
touching  the  habits  of  this  same  Sphex  wit- 
nessed a  similar  storing  away  of  Locusts  in 
Africa,  near  Oran.  He  surprised  a  Yellow- 
winged  Sphex  dragging  an  Acridian  along. 
Was  it  an  accidental  case,  like  that  which  I 
witnessed  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhone?  Was 
it  an  exception  or  the  rule?  Can  there  be  a 
lack  of  Crickets  in  the  country  around  Oran 
and  does  the  Wasp  fill  their  place  with 
125 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

Acridians?  The  force  of  circumstances  com- 
pels me  to  put  the  question  without  finding  a 
reply. 

This  is  the  place  to  interpolate  a  certain 
passage  from  Lacordaire's  *  Introduction  to 
Entomology  against  which  I  am  eager  to 
protest.  Here  it  is: 

"  Darwin,2  who  wrote  a  book  on  purpose 
to  prove  the  identity  of  the  intellectual  prin- 

1Jean  Theodore  Lacordaire  (1801-1870),  professor  at 
the  university  of  Liege  from  1835,  author  of  Les  Genera 
des  coleopteres,  in  twelve  volumes,  and  of  the  Introduc- 
tion a  I'entomologie  quoted  above  (1837-39). —  Trans- 
lator's Note. 

2£rasmus  Darwin  (1731-1802),  the  poet  and  natural- 
ist, grandfather  of  Charles  Robert  Darwin.  The  book 
from  which  the  above  passage  is  quoted  is  Zoonomia, 
or,  The  Laws  of  Organic  Life  (1794-1796)  ;  but  the 
reader  will  note  that  the  author  withdraws  these  com- 
ments in  a  later  essay  (cf.  The  Mason-bees,  by  J.  Henri 
Fabre,  translated  by  Alexander  Teixeira  de  Mattos: 
chap,  vii.),  where  he  explains  that  they  are  due  to  a 
misquotation  or  mistranslation  made  by  Lacordaire,  who 
wrote  "  a  Sphex "  where  Darwin,  as  his  grandson 
pointed  out  to  Fabre,  had  written  "  a  Wasp,"  meaning 
the  Common  or  Social  Wasp.  It  was  open  to  me  to 
suppress  this  part  of  the  chapter;  but,  in  that  case,  there 
would  have  been  so  little  left  of  the  original  and  so 
small  an  excuse  for  the  title  that  I  might  as  readily  have 
suppressed  the  whole  chapter,  a  liberty  which  I  did  not 
feel  justified  in  taking.  Besides,  the  footnote  to  the 
aforementioned  chapter  of  The  Mason-bees,  which  pre- 
cedes the  present  volume  in  the  English  edition,  makes 
sufficient  amends  for  any  injury  done  to  the  elder  Dar. 
win's  reputation  here. —  Translator's  Note^ 

126 


Advanced  Theories 

ciple  actuating  men  and  animals,  was  walking 
one  day  in  his  garden  when  he  saw  on  the 
path  a  Sphex  who  had  just  possessed  herself 
of  a  Fly  almost  as  large  as  herself.  He  saw 
her  cut  off  the  victim's  head  and  abdomen 
with  her  mandibles,  keeping  only  the  thorax, 
to  which  the  wings  remained  attached,  after 
which  she  flew  away;  but  a  breath  of  wind, 
striking  the  Fly's  wings,  made  the  Sphex  spin 
round  and  prevented  her  progress;  hereupon 
she  alighted  again  on  the  path,  cut  off  one  of 
the  Fly's  wings  and  then  the  other  and,  after 
thus  destroying  the  cause  of  her  difficulties, 
resumed  her  flight  with  what  remained  of  her 
prey.  This  fact  carries  with  it  manifest  signs 
of  reasoning-power.  Instinct  might  have  led 
this  Sphex  to  cut  off  her  victim's  wings  before 
carrying  it  to  her  nest,  as  do  some  species  of 
the  same  genus;  but  here  there  was  a  sequence 
of  ideas  and  results  from  those  ideas,  which 
are  quite  inexplicable  unless  we  allow  the  in- 
tervention of  reason." 

This  little  story,  which  so  lightly  grants 
reason  to  an  insect,  lacks  I  will  not  say  truth, 
but  even  mere  likelihood,  not  in  the  act  itself, 
which  I  accept  without  reserve,  but  in  the 
motives  for  the  act.  Darwin  saw  what  he 
127 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

tells  us;  only,  he  was  mistaken  as  to  the  hero- 
ine of  the  drama,  the  drama  itself  and  its 
significance.  He  was  profoundly  mistaken; 
and  I  will  prove  it. 

First  of  all,  the  old  English  scientist  was 
bound  to  know  enough  about  the  creatures  to 
which  he  gives  these  high  dignities  to  call 
things  by  their  right  names.  Let  us  there- 
fore take  the  word  Sphex  in  its  strict  scientific 
meaning.  Under  this  assumption,  by  what 
strange  aberration  was  this  English  Sphex,  if 
any  such  there  be,  choosing  a  Fly  for  her  prey, 
when  her  kinswomen  hunt  such  different 
game,  Orthoptera  ?  Even  admitting  what  I 
consider  to  be  inadmissible,  a  Fly  to  form  the 
quarry  of  a  Sphex,  other  difficulties  come 
crowding  up.  It  is  now  duly  proved  that  the 
Burrowing  Wasps  do  not  take  dead  bodies  to 
their  larvae,  but  a  victim  merely  numbed, 
paralysed.  Then  what  is  the  meaning  of  this 
prey  of  which  the  Sphex  cuts  off  the  head,  the 
abdomen,  the  wings?  The  stump  carried 
away  is  no  more  than  a  fragment  of  a  corpse, 
which  would  infect  the  cell  with  its  rotten- 
ness, without  being  of  any  use  to  the  larva, 
whose  hatching  is  not  due  for  some  days  yet. 
It  is  as  clear  as  daylight:  when  making  his 
observation,  Darwin  did  not  have  before  him 
128 


Advanced  Theories 

a   Sphex   in   the   strict  sense   of   the   word. 
Then  what  did  he  see? 

The  term  Fly,  by  which  the  captured  prey 
is  designated,  is  a  very  elastic  word,  which 
can  be  applied  to  the  immense  order  of 
Diptera  and  which  therefore  leaves  us  unde- 
cided among  thousands  of  species.  The  ex- 
pression Sphex  is  most  likely  also  employed 
in  an  equally  indefinite  sense.  At  the  end  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  when  Darwin's  book 
appeared,  this  expression  was  used  to  denote 
not  only  the  Sphegidae  proper,  but  particularly 
the  Crabronidae.  Now,  among  the  latter, 
some,  when  storing  provisions  for  their  larvae, 
hunt  Diptera,  Flies,  the  prey  required  by  the 
unknown  Hymenopteron  of  the  English 
naturalist.  Then  was  Darwin's  Sphex  a 
Crabro?  No;  for  these  Dipteron-hunters, 
like  the  hunters  of  any  other  prey,  want  game 
that  keeps  fresh,  motionless  but  half-alive,  for 
the  fortnight  or  three  weeks  required  for  the 
hatching  of  the  eggs  and  the  complete  de- 
velopment of  the  larvae.  All  these  little 
ogres  need  meat  killed  that  day  and  not  gone 
bad  or  even  a  little  high.  This  is  a  rule  to 
which  I  know  of  no  exception.  The  word 
Sphex  cannot  be  accepted  therefore,  even  with 
its  old  meaning. 

129 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

Instead  of  a  precise  fact,  really  worthy  of 
science,  we  have  a  riddle  to  read.  Let  us  con- 
tinue to  examine  the  riddle.  Different  species 
of  the  Crabro  family  are  so  like  the  Social 
Wasps  in  size,  in  shape  and  in  their  black-and- 
yellow  livery  as  to  deceive  any  eye  unversed 
in  the  delicate  distinctions  of  entomology. 
To  any  one  who  has  not  made  a  special  study 
of  such  subjects  a  Crabro  is  a  Common  Wasp. 
May  it  not  have  happened  that  the  English 
observer,  looking  at  things  from  a  height  and 
thinking  unworthy  of  strict  investigation  the 
tiny  fact  which  nevertheless  was  to  cor- 
roborate his  transcendental  theories  and  help 
to  bestow  reason  upon  an  animal,  made  a  mis- 
take in  his  turn,  but  one  in  the  other  direction 
and  quite  pardonable,  by  taking  a  Wasp  for  a 
Crabro?  I  would  almost  dare  swear  so; 
and  here  are  my  reasons. 

Wasps,  if  not  always,  at  least  often  bring 
up  their  family  on  animal  food ;  but,  instead 
of  accumulating  a  provision  of  game  in  each 
cell  beforehand,  they  distribute  the  food  to 
the  larva?,  one  by  one  and  several  times  a  day; 
they  feed  them  with  their  mouths,  as  the 
father  and  mother  feed  young  birds  with 
their  beaks.  And  the  mouthful  consists  of 
a  fine  mash  of  chewed  insects,  ground  between 
130 


Advanced  Theories 

the  mandibles  of  the  Wasp  nurse.  The 
favourite  insects  for  the  preparation  of  this 
infants'  food  are  Diptera,  especially  Common 
Flies;  when  fresh  meat  can  be  had,  it  is  a 
windfall  eagerly  turned  to  account.  Who 
has  not  seen  Wasps  boldly  enter  our  kitchens 
or  pounce  upon  the  meat  hanging  in  the 
butchers'  shops,  to  cut  off  a  scrap  that  suits 
them  and  carry  it  away  forthwith,  as  spolla 
opima  for  the  use  of  the  grubs?  When  the 
half-closed  shutters  admit  a  streak  of  sun- 
light to  the  floor  of  a  room,  where  the  House- 
fly is  taking  a  luxurious  nap  or  polishing  her 
wings,  who  has  not  seen  the  Wasp  rush  in, 
swoop  down  upon  the  Fly,  crush  her  in  her 
mandibles  and  make  off  with  the  booty? 
Once  again,  a  morsel  reserved  for  the  car- 
nivorous nurselings. 

The  prey  is  dismembered  now  on  the  spot 
where  captured,  now  on  the  way,  now  at  the 
nest.  The  wings,  which  possess  no  nutritive 
value,  are  cut  off  and  rejected;  the  legs,  which 
are  poor  in  juices,  are  also  sometimes  dis- 
dained. There  remains  a  mutilated  corpse, 
head,  thorax,  abdomen,  united  or  separated, 
which  the  Wasp  chews  and  rechews  to  re- 
duce it  to  the  pap  beloved  of  the  larvae.  I 
have  tried  to  take  the  place  of  the  nurses  in 
131 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

this  method  of  rearing  grubs  on  Fly-soup. 
The  subject  of  my  experiment  was  a  nest  of 
Polistes  gallica,  the  Wasp  who  fastens  her 
little  rosette  of  brown-paper  cells  to  the  roots 
of  a  shrub.  My  kitchen-table  was  a  flat  piece 
of  marble  on  which  I  crushed  the  Fly-pap 
after  cleaning  the  heads  of  game,  that  is  to 
say,  after  removing  the  parts  that  were  too 
tough,  the  wings  and  legs ;  lastly,  the  feeding- 
spoon  was  a  fine  straw,  at  the  tip  of  which  the 
dish  was  served,  from  cell  to  cell,  to  each 
nurseling,  which  opened  its  mandibles  just  as 
the  young  birds  in  the  nest  might  do.  I  used 
to  go  to  work  in  exactly  the  same  way  and 
succeeded  no  better  when  bringing  up  broods 
of  Sparrows,  that  joy  of  my  childhood.  All 
went  well  as  long  as  my  patience  did  not  fail 
me,  tried  as  it  was  by  the  cares  of  so  finikin 
and  absorbing  an  education. 

The  obscurity  of  the  enigma  gives  way  to 
the  full  light  of  truth  thanks  to  the  following 
observation,  made  with  all  the  deliberateness 
which  strict  precision  calls  for.  In  the  early 
days  of  October,  two  large  clumps  of  asters 
in  blossom  outside  the  door  of  my  study  be- 
came the  meeting-place  of  a  host  of  insects, 
among  which  the  Hive-bee  and  an  Eristalis- 
fly  (Eristalis  tenax)  predominate.  A  gentle 
132 


Advanced  Theories 

murmur  rose  from  them,  like  that  of  which 
Virgil  sings : 

S<epe  levl  somnum   suadebit  inire   susurro.1 

But,  where  the  poet  finds  but  an  incitement 
to  the  delights  of  sleep,  the  naturalist  beholds 
a  subject  for  study:  all  this  small  folk  making 
holiday  on  the  last  flowers  of  the  year  will 
perhaps  furnish  him  with  some  fresh  data. 
Behold  me  then  on  observation-duty  before 
the  two  clumps  with  their  thousands  of  lilac 
petals. 

The  air  is  absolutely  still,  the  sun  blazing, 
the  atmosphere  heavy:  signs  of  an  approach- 
ing storm,  but  conditions  eminently  favour- 
able to  the  work  of  the  Hymenoptera,  who 
seem  to  foresee  to-morrow's  rain  and  re- 
double their  activity  to  improve  the  oppor- 
tunity. And  so  the  Bees  plunder  eagerly, 
while  the  Eristales  fly  clumsily  from  flower  to 
flower.  At  times,  the  peaceable  multitude, 
filling  its  crop  with  nectar,  is  disturbed  by  the 
sudden  invasion  of  the  Wasp,  a  ravening  in- 
sect attracted  hither  by  prey,  not  honey. 

Equally  ardent  in  carnage,  but  very  unequal 

x"  The  busy  bees,  with  a  soft  murmuring  strain, 
Invite  to  gentle  sleep  the  labouring  swain." — 

Pastorals,  i.,  Dryden's  translation. 
133 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

in  strength,  two  species  divide  the  hunting 
between  them:  the  Common  Wasp  (Vespa 
vulgaris),  who  catches  Eristales,  and  the 
Hornet  (Fespa  crabro),  who  preys  on  Hive- 
bees.  The  methods  are  the  same  in  either 
case.  Both  bandits  explore  the  expanse  of 
flowers  with  an  impetuous  flight,  going  back- 
wards and  forwards  in  a  thousand  directions, 
and  then  make  a  sudden  rush  for  the  coveted 
prey,  which  is  on  its  guard  and  flies  away 
while  the  kidnapper's  impetus  brings  her  up 
with  a  bump  against  the  deserted  flower. 
Then  the  pursuit  continues  in  the  air,  as 
though  a  Sparrow-hawk  were  chasing  a  Lark. 
But  the  Bee  and  the  Eristalis,  by  taking  brisk 
turns,  soon  baffle  the  attempts  of  the  Wasp, 
who  resumes  her  evolutions  above  the  cluster- 
ing blossoms.  At  last,  sooner  or  later,  some 
quarry  less  quick  at  flight  is  captured. 
Forthwith,  the  Common  Wasp  drops  on  to 
the  lawn  with  her  Eristalis;  I  also  instantly  lie 
on  the  ground,  quietly  removing  with  my 
hands  the  dead  leaves  and  bits  of  grass  that 
might  interfere  with  my  view;  and  I  witness 
the  following  tragedy,  if  I  have  taken  proper 
precautions  not  to  scare  the  huntress. 

First,  there  is  a  wild  struggle  in  the  tangle 
of   the   grass   between   the   Wasp    and   the 
134 


Advanced  Theories 

Eristalis,  who  is  bigger  than  her  assailant. 
The  Fly  is  unarmed,  but  powerful;  a  shrill 
buzz  of  her  wings  tells  of  her  desperate  re- 
sistance. The  Wasp  carries  a  dagger;  but 
she  does  not  understand  the  methodical  use 
of  it,  is  unacquainted  with  the  vulnerable 
points  so  well-known  to  the  marauders  who 
need  a  prey  that  keeps  fresh  for  long.  What 
her  nurselings  want  is  a  mess  of  Flies  that 
moment  reduced  to  pulp ;  and,  so  long  as  this 
is  achieved,  the  Wasp  cares  little  how  the 
game  is  killed.  The  sting  therefore  is  used 
blindly,  without  any  method.  We  see  it 
pointed  indifferently  at  the  victim's  back, 
sides,  head,  thorax  or  belly,  according  to  the 
chances  of  the  scuffle.  The  Hunting  Wasp 
paralysing  her  victim  acts  like  a  surgeon  who 
directs  his  scalpel  with  a  skilled  hand;  the 
Social  Wasp  killing  her  prey  behaves  like  a 
common  assassin  who  stabs  at  random.  For 
this  reason,  the  Eristalis'  resistance  is  pro- 
longed; and  her  death  is  the  result  of  scissor- 
cuts  rather  than  dagger-thrusts.  When  the 
victim  is  duly  garrotted,  motionless  between 
its  ravisher's  legs,  the  head  falls  under  a  snap 
of  the  mandibles;  then  the  wings  are  cut  off 
at  their  juncture  with  the  shoulder;  the  legs 
follow,  severed  one  by  one;  lastly,  the  belly 
135 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

is  flung  aside,  but  emptied  of  the  entrails, 
which  the  Wasp  appears  to  add  to  the  one 
favoured  portion.  This  choice  morsel  is 
solely  the  thorax,  which  is  richer  in  lean  meat 
than  the  rest  of  the  Eristalis'  body.  Without 
further  delay,  the  Wasp  flies  off  with  it,  carry- 
ing it  in  her  legs.  On  reaching  the  nest,  she 
will  make  it  into  potted  Fly  and  serve  it  in 
mouthfuls  to  the  larvae. 

The  Hornet  who  has  caught  a  Bee  acts  in 
much  the  same  manner;  but,  in  the  case  of  an 
assailant  of  her  dimensions,  the  struggle  can- 
not last  long,  notwithstanding  the  victim's 
sting.  The  Hornet  may  prepare  her  dish  on 
the  very  flower  where  the  capture  was  ef- 
fected, or  more  often  on  some  twig  of  an 
adjacent  shrub.  The  Bee's  crop  is  first 
ripped  open  and  the  honey  that  runs  out  of  it 
lapped  up.  The  prize  is  thus  a  twofold  one : 
a  drop  of  honey  for  the  huntress  to  feast  upon 
and  the  Bee  herself  for  the  larvae.  Some- 
times the  wings  are  removed  and  also  the 
abdomen;  but  generally  the  Hornet  is  satisfied 
with  reducing  the  Bee  to  a  shapeless  mass, 
which  she  carries  off  without  disdaining  any- 
thing. Those  parts  which  have  no  nutritive 
value,  especially  the  wings,  will  be  rejected  on 
arriving  at  the  nest.  Lastly,  she  sometimes 
136 


Advanced  Theories 

prepares  the  mash  in  the  actual  hunting-field, 
that  is  to  say,  she  crushes  the  Bee  between 
her  mandibles  after  removing  the  wings,  the 
legs  and  at  times  the  abdomen  as  well. 

Here  then,  in  all  its  details,  is  the  incident 
observed  by  Darwin.  A  Wasp  (Fespa  vul- 
garis)  catches  a  big  Fly  (Eris tails  tenax] ; 
she  cuts  off  the  victim's  head,  wings,  abdomen 
and  legs  with  her  mandibles  and  keeps  only 
the  thorax,  which  she  carries  off  flying.  But 
here  there  is  not  the  least  breath  of  wind  to 
explain  the  carving-process;  besides,  the  thing 
happens  in  a  perfect  shelter,  in  the  thick 
tangle  of  the  grass.  The  butcher  rejects  such 
parts  of  her  prey  as  she  considers  valueless  to 
her  larvae ;  and  that  is  all  about  it. 

In  short,  the  heroine  of  Darwin's  story  is 
certainly  a  Wasp.  Then  what  becomes  of 
that  rational  calculation  on  the  part  of  the 
insect  which,  the  better  to  contend  with  the 
wind,  cuts  off  its  prey's  abdomen,  head  and 
wings  and  keeps  only  the  thorax?  It  be- 
comes a  most  simple  incident,  leading  to  none 
of  the  mighty  consequences  which  the  writer 
seeks  to  deduce  from  it :  the  very  trivial  inci- 
dent of  a  Wasp  who  begins  to  carve  up  her 
prey  on  the  spot  and  keeps  only  the  stump, 
the  one  part  which  she  considers  fit  for  her 
137 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

larvae.  Far  from  seeing  the  least  sign  of 
reason  in  this,  I  look  upon  it  as  a  mere  act  of 
instinct,  one  so  elementary  that  it  is  really  not 
worth  expatiating  upon. 

To  disparage  man  and  exalt  animals  in 
order  to  establish  a  point  of  contact,  followed 
by  a  point  of  union,  has  been  and  still  is  the 
general  tendency  of  the  "  advanced  theories  " 
in  fashion  in  our  day.  Ah,  how  often  are 
these  "  sublime  theories,"  that  morbid  craze 
of  the  time,  based  upon  "  proofs  "  which,  if 
subjected  to  the  light  of  experiment,  would 
lead  to  as  ridiculous  results  as  the  learned 
Erasmus  Darwin's  Sphex! 


138 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    LANGUEDOCIAN   SPHEX 

WHEN  the  chemist  has  fully  prepared  his 
plan  of  research,  he  mixes  his  reagent 
at  the  most  convenient  moment  and  lights  a 
flame  under  his  retort.  He  is  the  master  of 
time,  place  and  circumstances.  He  chooses 
his  hour,  shuts  himself  up  in  his  laboratory, 
where  nothing  can  come  to  disturb  the  busi- 
ness in  hand;  he  produces  at  will  this  or  that 
condition  which  reflection  suggests  to  him :  he 
is  in  quest  of  the  secrets  of  inorganic  matter, 
whose  chemical  activities  science  can  awaken 
whenever  it  thinks  fit. 

The  secrets  of  living  matter  —  not  those 
of  anatomical  structure,  but  really  those  of 
life  in  action,  especially  of  instinct  —  present 
much  more  difficult  and  delicate  conditions  to 
the  observer.  Far  from  being  able  to  choose 
his  own  time,  he  is  the  slave  of  the  season, 
of  the  day,  of  the  hour,  of  the  very  moment. 
When  the  opportunity  offers,  he  must  seize  it 
as  it  comes,  without  hesitation,  for  it  may  be 
long  before  it  presents  itself  again.  And,  as 
J39 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

it  usually  arrives  at  the  moment  when  he  is 
least  expecting  it,  nothing  is  in  readiness  for 
making  the  most  of  it.  He  must  then  and 
there  improvise  his  little  stock  of  experiment- 
ing-material,  contrive  his  plans,  evolve  his 
tactics,  devise  his  tricks;  and  he  can  think 
himself  lucky  if  inspiration  comes  fast  enough 
to  allow  him  to  profit  by  the  chance  offered. 
This  chance,  moreover,  hardly  ever  comes 
except  to  those  who  look  for  it.  You  must 
watch  for  it  patiently  for  days  and  days,  now 
on  sandy  slopes  exposed  to  the  full  glare  of 
the  sun,  now  on  some  path  walled  in  by  high 
banks,  where  the  heat  is  like  that  of  an  oven, 
or  again  on  some  sandstone  ledge  which  is 
none  too  steady.  If  it  is  in  your  power  to 
set  up  your  observatory  under  a  meagre  olive- 
tree  that  pretends  to  protect  you  from  the 
rays  of  a  pitiless  sun,  you  may  bless  the  fate 
that  treats  you  as  a  sybarite:  your  lot  is  an 
Eden.  Above  all,  keep  your  eyes  open.  The 
spot  is  a  good  one ;  and  —  who  knows  ?  —  the 
opportunity  may  come  at  any  moment. 

It  came,  late,  it  is  true;  but  still  it  came. 
Ah,  if  you  could  now  observe  at  your  ease,  in 
the  quiet  of  your  study,  with  nothing  to  dis- 
tract your  mind  from  your  subject,  far  from 
the  profane  wayfarer  who,  seeing  you  so 
140 


The  Languedocian  Sphex 

busily  occupied  at  a  spot  where  he  sees  no- 
thing, will  stop,  overwhelm  you  with  que- 
ries, take  you  for  some  water-diviner,  or  — 
a  graver  suspicion  this  —  regard  you  as  some 
questionable  character  searching  for  buried 
treasure  and  discovering  by  means  of  incanta- 
tions where  the  old  pots  full  of  coin  lie  hid- 
den! Should  you  still  wear  a  Christian  as- 
pect in  his  eyes,  he  will  approach  you,  look  to 
see  what  you  are  looking  at  and  smile  in  a 
manner  that  leaves  no  doubt  as  to  his  poor 
opinion  of  people  who  spend  their  time  in 
watching  Flies.  You  will  be  lucky  indeed  if 
the  troublesome  visitor,  with  his  tongue  in  his 
cheek,  walks  off  at  last  without  disturbing 
things  and  without  repeating  in  his  innocence 
the  disaster  brought  about  by  my  two  con- 
scripts' boots. 

Should  your  inexplicable  doings  not  puzzle 
the  passer-by,  they  will  be  sure  to  puzzle  the 
village  keeper,  that  uncompromising  repre- 
sentative of  the  law  in  the  ploughed  acres. 
He  has  long  had  his  eye  on  you.  He  has  so 
often  seen  you  wandering  about,  like  a  lost 
soul,  for  no  appreciable  reason;  he  has  so 
often  caught  you  rooting  in  the  ground,  or, 
with  infinite  precautions,  knocking  down  some 
strip  of  wall  in  a  sunken  road,  that  in  the  end 
141 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

he  has  come  to  look  upon  you  with  dark  sus- 
picion. You  are  nothing  to  him  but  a  gipsy, 
a  tramp,  a  poultry-thief,  a  shady  person  or,  at 
the  best,  a  madman.  Should  you  be  carrying 
your  botanizing-case,  it  will  represent  to  him 
the  poacher's  ferret-cage;  and  you  would 
never  get  it  out  of  his  head  that,  regardless 
of  the  game-laws  and  the  rights  of  landlords, 
you  are  clearing  all  the  neighbouring  warrens 
of  their  rabbits.  Take  care.  However 
thirsty  you  may  be,  do  not  lay  a  finger  on 
the  nearest  bunch  of  grapes :  the  man  with 
the  municipal  badge  will  be  there,  delighted 
to  have  a  case  at  last  and  so  to  receive  an  ex- 
planation of  your  highly  perplexing  beha- 
viour. 

I  have  never,  I  can  safely  say,  committed  any 
such  misdemeanour;  and  yet,  one  day,  lying 
on  the  sand,  absorbed  in  the  details  of  a  Bem- 
bex'  household,  I  suddenly  heard  beside  me : 

"  In  the  name  of  the  law,  I  arrest  you  1 
You  come  along  with  me !  " 

It  was  the  keeper  of  Les  Angles,  who,  after 
vainly  waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  catch  me 
at  fault  and  being  daily  more  anxious  for  an 
answer  to  the  riddle  that  was  worrying  him, 
at  last  resolved  upon  the  brutal  expedient  of 
a  summons.  I  had  to  explain  things.  The 
142 


The  Languedocian  Sphex 

poor  man  seemed  anything  but  convinced: 
"Pooh!"  he  said.  "Pooh I  You  will 
never  make  me  believe  that  you  come  here 
and  roast  in  the  sun  just  to  watch  Flies.  I 
shall  keep  an  eye  on  you,  mark  you !  And, 
the  first  time  I  .  .  .  !  However,  that'll  do 
for  the  present." 

And  he  went  off.  I  have  always  believed 
that  my  red  ribbon  had  a  good  deal  to  do 
with  his  departure.  And  I  also  put  down  to 
that  red  ribbon  certain  other  little  services  by 
which  I  benefited  during  my  entomological 
and  botanical  excursions.  It  seemed  to  me 
—  or  was  I  dreaming?  —  it  seemed  to  me 
that,  on  my  botanizing-expeditions  up  Mont 
Ventoux,  the  guide  was  more  tractable  and 
the  donkey  less  obstinate. 

The  aforesaid  bit  of  scarlet  ribbon  did  not 
always  spare  me  the  tribulations  which  the 
entomologist  must  expect  when  experiment- 
ing on  the  public  way.  Here  is  a  character- 
istic example.  Ever  since  daybreak  I  have 
been  ambushed,  sitting  on  a  stone,  at  the  bot- 
tom of  a  ravine.  The  subject  of  my  matu- 
tinal visit  is  the  Languedocian  Sphex.  Three 
women,  vine-pickers,  pass  in  a  group,  on  the 
way  to  their  work.  They  give  a  glance  at 
the  man  seated,  apparently  absorbed  in  reflec- 
H3 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

tion.  At  sunset,  the  same  pickers  pass  again, 
carrying  their  full  baskets  on  their  heads. 
The  man  is  still  there,  sitting  on  the  same 
stone,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  same  place. 
My  motionless  attitude,  my  long  persistency 
in  remaining  at  that  deserted  spot,  must  have 
impressed  them  deeply.  As  they  passed  by 
me,  I  saw  one  of  them  tap  her  forehead  and 
heard  her  whisper  to  the  others: 

"  Un  paoure  inoucent,  pecaire!  " 

And  all  three  made  the  sign  of  the  Cross. 

An  innocent,  she  had  said,  un  inoucent,  an 
idiot,  a  poor  creature,  quite  harmless,  but 
half-witted;  and  they  had  all  made  the  sign 
of  the  Cross,  an  idiot  being  to  them  one  with 
God's  seal  stamped  upon  him. 

"  How  now !  "  thought  I.  "  What  a  cruel 
mockery  of  fate!  You,  who  are  so  labori- 
ously seeking  to  discover  what  is  instinct  in 
the  animal  and  what  is  reason,  you  yourself 
do  not  even  possess  your  reason  in  these  good 
women's  eyes!  What  a  humiliating  reflec- 
tion!" 

No  matter:  pecaire,  that  expression  of  su- 
preme compassion,  in  the  Provencal  dialect, 
peca'ire,  coming  from  the  bottom  of  the  heart, 
soon  made  me  forget  inoucent. 

It  is  in  this  ravine  with  its  three  grape- 
144 


The  Languedocian  Sphex 

gathering  women  that  I  would  meet  the 
reader,  if  he  be  not  discouraged  by  the  petty 
annoyances  of  which  I  have  given  him  a  fore- 
taste. The  Languedocian  Sphex  frequents 
these  points,  not  in  tribes  congregating  at  the 
same  spot  when  nest-building  work  begins, 
but  as  solitary  individuals,  sparsely  distrib- 
uted, settling  wherever  the  chances  of  their 
vagabondage  lead  them.  Even  as  her  kins- 
woman, the  Yellow-winged  Sphex,  seeks  the 
society  of  her  kind  and  the  animation  of  a 
yard  full  of  workers,  the  Languedocian  Sphex 
prefers  isolation,  quiet  and  solitude.  Graver 
of  gait,  more  formal  in  her  manners,  of  a 
larger  size  and  also  more  sombrely  clad,  she 
always  lives  apart,  not  caring  what  others  do, 
disdaining  company,  a  genuine  misanthrope 
among  the  Sphegidas.  The  one  is  sociable, 
the  other  is  not:  a  profound  difference  which 
in  itself  is  enough  to  characterize  them. 

This  amounts  to  saying  that,  with  the 
Languedocian  Sphex,  the  difficulties  of  ob- 
servation increase.  No  long-meditated  ex- 
periment is  possible  in  her  case;  nor,  when 
the  first  attempts  have  failed,  can  one  hope  to 
try  them  again,  on  the  same  occasion,  with  a 
second  or  a  third  subject  and  so  on.  If  you 
prepare  the  materials  for  your  observation  in 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

advance,  if,  for  instance,  you  have  in  reserve 
a  piece  of  game  which  you  propose  to  substi- 
tute for  that  of  the  Sphex,  it  is  to  be  feared, 
nay,  it  is  almost  certain  that  the  huntress  will 
not  appear;  and,  when  she  does  come  at  last, 
your  materials  are  no  longer  fit  for  use  and 
everything  has  to  be  improvised  in  a  hurry, 
that  very  moment,  under  conditions  that  are 
not  always  satisfactory. 

Let  us  take  heart.  The  site  is  a  first-rate 
one.  Many  a  time  already  I  have  surprised 
the  Sphex  here,  sunning  herself  on  a  vine-leaf. 
The  insect,  spread  out  flat,  is  basking  voluptu- 
ously in  the  heat  and  light.  From  time  to 
time  it  has  a  sort  of  frenzied  outburst  of 
pleasure:  it  quivers  with  content;  it  rapidly 
taps  its  feet  on  its  couch,  producing  a  tattoo 
not  unlike  that  of  rain  falling  heavily  on  the 
leaf.  The  joyous  thrum  can  be  heard  several 
feet  away.  Then  immobility  begins  again, 
soon  followed  by  a  fresh  nervous  commotion 
and  by  the  whirling  of  the  tarsi,  a  symbol  of 
supreme  felicity.  I  have  known  some  of 
these  passionate  sun-lovers  suddenly  to  leave 
the  workyard,  when  the  larva's  cave  has  been 
half-dug,  and  go  to  the  nearest  vine  to  take 
a  bath  of  heat  and  light,  after  which  they 
would  come  back  to  the  burrow,  as  though  re- 
146 


The  Languedocian  Sphex 

luctantly,  just  to  give  a  perfunctory  sweep  and 
soon  end  by  knocking  off  work,  unable  to  re- 
sist the  exquisite  temptation  of  luxuriating  on 
the  vine-leaves. 

It  may  be  that  the  voluptuous  couch  is  also 
an  observatory,  whence  the  Wasp  surveys  the 
surrounding  country  in  order  to  discover  and 
select  her  prey.  Her  exclusive  game  is  the 
Ephippiger  of  the  Vine,  scattered  here  and 
there  on  the  branches  or  on  any  brambles 
hard  by.  The  joint  is  a  substantial  one,  espe- 
cially as  the  Sphex  favours  solely  the  females, 
whose  bellies  are  swollen  with  a  mighty  clus- 
ter of  eggs. 

Let  us  take  no  notice  of  the  repeated  trips, 
the  fruitless  searches,  the  tedium  of  frequent 
long  waiting,  but  rather  present  the  Sphex 
suddenly  to  the  reader  as  she  herself  appears 
to  the  observer.  Here  she  is,  at  the  bottom 
of  a  sunken  road  with  high,  sandy  banks. 
She  comes  on  foot,  but  gets  help  from  her 
wings  in  dragging  her  heavy  prize.  The 
Ephippiger's  antennas,  long  and  slender  as 
threads,  are  the  harnessing-ropes.  Holding 
her  head  high,  she  grasps  one  of  them  in  her 
mandibles.  The  antenna  gripped  passes  be- 
tween her  legs ;  and  the  game  follows,  turned 
over  on  its  back.  Should  the  soil  be  too  un- 
H7 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

even  and  so  offer  resistance  to  this  method  of 
carting,  the  Wasp  clasps  her  unwieldy  burden 
and  carries  it  with  very  short  flights,  inter- 
spersed, as  often  as  possible,  with  journeys  on 
foot.  We  never  see  her  undertake  a  sus- 
tained flight,  for  long  distances,  holding  the 
game  in  her  legs,  as  is  the  practice  of  those 
expert  aviators,  the  Bembeces  and  Cerceres, 
for  instance,  who  bear  through  the  air  for 
more  than  half  a  mile  their  respective  Flies 
or  Weevils,  a  very  light  booty  compared  with 
the  huge  Ephippiger.  The  overpowering 
weight  of  her  capture  compels  the  Langue- 
docian  Sphex,  to  make  the  whole  or  nearly 
the  whole  journey  on  foot,  her  method  of 
transport  being  consequently  slow  and  labori- 
ous. 

The  same  reason,  the  bulk  and  weight  of 
the  prey,  have  entirely  reversed  the  usual  or- 
der which  the  Burrowing  Wasps  follow  in 
their  operations.  This  order  we  know:  it 
consists  in  first  digging  a  burrow  and  then 
stocking  it  with  provisions.  As  the  victim  is 
not  out  of  proportion  to  the  strength  of  the 
spoiler,  it  is  quite  simple  to  carry  it  flying, 
which  means  that  the  Wasp  can  choose  any 
site  that  she  likes  for  her  dwelling.  She  does 
not  mind  how  far  afield  she  goes  for  her 
148 


The  Languedocian  Sphex 

prey:  once  she  has  captured  her  quarry,  she 
comes  flying  home  at  a  speed  which  makes 
questions  of  distance  quite  immaterial. 
Hence  she  prefers  as  the  site  for  her  burrow 
the  place  where  she  herself  was  born,  the 
place  where  her  forbears  lived;  she  here  in- 
herits deep  galleries,  the  accumulated  work 
of  earlier  generations;  and,  by  repairing  them 
a  little,  she  makes  them  serve  as  approaches 
to  new  chambers,  which  are  in  this  way  bet- 
ter protected  than  they  would  be  if  they  de- 
pended upon  the  labours  of  a  single  Wasp, 
who  had  to  start  boring  -from  the  surface 
each  year.  This  happens,  for  instance,  in 
the  case  of  the  Great  Cerceris  and  the  Bee- 
eating  Philanthus.  And,  should  the  ancestral 
abode  not  be  strong  enough  to  withstand  the 
rough  weather  from  one  year  to  the  next  and 
to  be  handed  down  to  the  offspring,  should 
the  burrower  have  each  time  to  start  her  tun- 
nelling afresh,  at  least  the  Wasp  finds  greater 
safety  in  places  consecrated  by  the  experience 
of  her  forerunners.  Consequently  she  goes 
there  to  dig  her  galleries,  each  of  which 
serves  as  a  corridor  to  a  group  of  cells,  thus 
effecting  an  economy  in  the  aggregate  labour 
expended  upon  the  whole  business  of  the  lay- 
ing. 

149 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

In  this  way  are  formed  not  real  societies, 
for  there  are  no  concerted  efforts  towards  a 
common  object,  but  at  least  assemblies  where 
the  sight  of  her  kinswomen  and  her  neigh- 
bours doubtless  puts  heart  into  the  labour  of 
the  individual.  We  can  observe,  in  fact,  be- 
tween these  little  tribes,  springing  from  the 
same  stock,  and  the  burrowers  who  do  their 
work  alone,  a  difference  in  activity  which  re- 
minds us  of  the  emulation  prevailing  in  a 
crowded  yard  and  the  indifference  of  labour- 
ers who  have  to  work  in  solitude.  Action  is 
contagious  in  animals  as  in  men;  it  is  fired  by 
its  own  example. 

To  sum  up:  when  of  a  moderate  weight 
for  its  captor,  the  prey  can  be  conveyed  flying, 
to  a  great  distance.  The  Wasp  can  then 
choose  any  site  that  she  pleases  for  her  bur- 
row. She  adopts  by  preference  the  spot 
where  she  was  born  and  uses  each  passage  as 
a  common  corridor  giving  access  to  several 
cells.  The  result  of  this  meeting  at  a  com- 
mon birthplace  is  the  formation  of  groups, 
like  turning  to  like,  which  is  a  source  of 
friendly  rivalry.  This  first  step  towards  so- 
cial life  comes  from  facilities  for  travelling. 
Do  not  things  happen  in  the  same  way  with 
man,  if  I  may  be  permitted  the  comparison? 
150 


The  Languedocian  Sphex 

When  he  has  nothing  but  trackless  paths,  man 
builds  a  solitary  hut;  when  supplied  with  good 
roads,  he  and  his  fellows  collect  in  populous 
cities;  when  served  by  railways  which,  so  to 
speak,  annihilate  distance,  they  assemble  in 
those  immense  human  hives  called  London  or 
Paris. 

The  situation  of  the  Languedocian  Sphex  is 
just  the  reverse.  Her  prey  is  a  heavy  Ephip- 
piger,  a  single  dish  representing  by  itself  the 
sum  total  of  provisions  which  the  other  free- 
booters amass  on  numerous  journeys,  insect 
by  insect.  What  the  Cerceres  and  the  other 
plunderers  strong  on  the  wing  accomplish  by 
dividing  the  labour  she  does  in  a  single  jour- 
ney. The  weight  of  the  prey  makes  any  dis- 
tant flight  impossible;  it  has  to  be  brought 
home  slowly  and  laboriously,  for  it  is  a 
troublesome  business  to  cart  things  along  the 
ground.  This  alone  makes  the  site  of  the 
burrow  dependent  on  the  accidents  of  the 
chase:  the  prey  comes  first  and  the  dwelling 
next.  So  there  is  no.  assembling  at  a  com- 
mon meeting-place,  no  association  of  kindred 
spirits,  no  tribes  stimulating  one  another  in 
their  work  by  mutual  example,  but  isolation  in 
the  particular  spot  where  the  chances  of  the 
day  have  taken  the  Sphex,  solitary  labour, 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

carried  on  without  animation  though  with  un- 
failing diligence.  First  of  all,  the  prey  is 
sought  for,  attacked,  reduced  to  helplessness. 
Not  until  after  that  does  the  digger  trouble 
about  the  burrow.  A  favourable  place  is 
chosen,  as  near  as  possible  to  the  spot  where 
the  victim  lies,  so  as  to  cut  short  the  tedious 
work  of  transport;  and  the  chamber  of  the 
future  larva  is  rapidly  hollowed  out  and  at 
once  receives  the  egg  and  the  victuals. 
There  you  have  an  example  of  the  inverted 
method  of  the  Languedocian  Sphex,  a 
method,  as  all  my  observations  go  to  prove, 
diametrically  opposite  to  that  of  the  other 
Hymenoptera.  I  will  give  some  of  the  more 
striking  of  these  observations. 

When  caught  digging,  the  Languedocian 
Sphex  is  always  alone,  sometimes  at  the  bot- 
tom of  a  dusty  recess  left  by  a  stone  that  has 
dropped  out  of  an  old  wall,  sometimes  en- 
sconced in  the  shelter  formed  by  a  flat,  pro- 
jecting bit  of  sandstone,  a  shelter  much  sought 
after  by  the  fierce  Eyed  Lizard  to  serve  as  an 
entrance-hall  to  his  lair.  The  sun  beats  full 
upon  it;  it  is  an  oven.  The  soil,  consisting 
of  old  dust  that  has  fallen  little  by  little  from 
the  roof,  is  very  easy  to  dig.  The  cell  is 
soon  scooped  out  with  the  mandibles,  those 
152 


The  Languedocian  Sphex 

pincers  which  are  also  used  for  digging,  and 
the  tarsi,  which  serve  as  rubbish-rakes. 
Then  the  miner  flies  off,  but  with  a  slow  flight 
and  no  sudden  display  of  wing-power,  a  mani- 
fest sign  that  the  insect  is  not  contemplating 
a  distant  expedition.  We  can  easily  follow 
it  with  our  eyes  and  perceive  the  spot  where 
it  alights,  usually  ten  or  twelve  yards  away. 
At  other  times,  it  decides  to  walk.  It  goes 
off  and  makes  hurriedly  for  a  spot  where  we 
will  have  the  indiscretion  to  follow  it,  for  our 
presence  does  not  trouble  it  at  all.  On  reach- 
ing its  destination,  either  on  foot  or  on  the 
wing,  it  looks  round  for  some  time,  as  we 
gather  from  its  undecided  attitude  and  its 
journeys  hither  and  thither.  It  looks  round; 
at  last  it  finds  or  rather  retrieves  something. 
The  object  recovered  is  an  Ephippiger,  half- 
paralysed,  but  still  moving  her  tarsi,  antennae 
and  ovipositor.  She  is  a  victim  which  the 
Sphex  certainly  stabbed  not  long  ago  with  a 
few  stings.  After  the  operation,  the  Wasp 
left  her  prey,  an  embarrassing  burden  amid 
the  suspense  of  house-hunting;  she  abandoned 
it  perhaps  on  the  very  spot  where  she  cap- 
tured it,  contenting  herself  with  making  it 
more  or  less  conspicuous  by  placing  it  on  some 
grass-tuft,  in  order  to  find  it  more  easily 
153 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

later;  and,  trusting  to  her  good  memory  to 
return  presently  to  the  spot  where  the  booty 
lies,  she  set  out  to  explore  the  neighbourhood 
with  the  object  of  finding  a  suitable  site  and 
there  digging  a  burrow.  Once  the  home  was 
ready,  she  came  back  to  her  prize,  which  she 
found  again  without  much  hesitation,  and  she 
now  prepares  to  lug  it  home.  She  bestrides 
the  victim,  seizes  one  or  both  of  the  antennae 
and  off  she  goes,  tugging  and  dragging  with 
all  the  strength  of  her  loins  and  jaws. 

Sometimes,  she  has  only  to  make  one  jour- 
ney; at  other  times  and  more  often,  the  carter 
suddenly  plumps  down  her  load  and  quickly 
runs  home.  Perhaps  it  occurs  to  her  that  the 
entrance-door  is  not  wide  enough  to  admit 
so  substantial  a  morsel;  perhaps  she  remem- 
bers some  lack  of  finish  that  might  hamper 
the  storing.  And,  in  point  of  fact,  the 
worker  does  touch  up  her  work :  she  enlarges 
the  doorway,  smooths  the  threshold,  strength- 
ens the  ceiling.  It  is  all  done  with  a  few 
strokes  of  the  tarsi.  Then  she  returns  to 
the  Ephippiger,  lying  yonder,  on  her  back,  a 
few  steps  away.  The  hauling  begins  again. 
On  the  road,  the  Sphex  seems  struck  with  a 
new  idea,  which  flashes  through  her  quick 
154 


The  Languedocian  Sphex 

brain.  She  has  inspected  the  door,  but  has 
not  looked  inside.  Who  knows  if  all  is  well 
in  there?  She  hastens  to  see,  dropping  the 
Ephippiger  before  she  goes.  The  interior  is 
inspected;  and  apparently  a  few  pats  of  the 
trowel  are  administered  with  the  tarsi,  giving 
a  last  polish  to  the  walls.  Without  lingering 
too  long  over  these  delicate  aftertouches,  the 
Wasp  goes  back  to  her  booty  and  harnesses 
herself  to  its  antennae.  Forward  1  Will  the 
journey  be  completed  this  time  ?  I  would  not 
answer  for  it.  I  have  known  a  Sphex,  more 
suspicious  than  the  others,  perhaps,  or  more 
neglectful  of  the  minor  architectural  details, 
to  repair  her  omissions,  to  dispel  her  doubts, 
by  abandoning  her  prize  on  the  way  five  or 
six  times  running,  in  order  to  hurry  to  the 
burrow,  which  each  time  was  touched  up  a 
little  or  merely  inspected  within.  It  is  true 
that  others  make  straight  for  their  destina- 
tion, without  even  stopping  to  rest.  I  must 
also  add  that,  when  the  Wasp  goes  home  to 
improve  the  dwelling,  she  does  not  fail  to 
give  a  glance  from  a  distance  every  now  and 
then  at  the  Ephippiger  over  there,  to  make 
sure  that  nothing  has  happened  to  her.  This 
solicitude  recalls  that  of  the  Sacred  Beetle 
155 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

when  he  leaves  the  hall  which  he  is  excavating 
in  order  to  come  and  feel  his  beloved  pellet 
and  bring  it  a  little  nearer  to  him. 

The  inference  to  be  drawn  from  the  details 
which  I  have  related  is  manifest.  The  fact 
that  every  Languedocian  Sphex  surprised  in 
her  mining-operations,  even  though  it  be  at 
the  very  beginning  of  the  digging,  at  the  first 
stroke  of  the  tarsus  in  the  dust,  afterwards, 
when  the  home  is  prepared,  makes  a  short 
excursion,  now  on  foot,  anon  flying,  and  in- 
variably finds  herself  in  possession  of  a  victim 
already  stabbed,  already  paralysed,  compels 
us  to  conclude,  in  all  certainty,  that  this  Wasp 
does  her  work  as  a  huntress  first  and  as  a 
burrower  after,  so  that  the  place  of  the  cap- 
ture decides  the  place  of  the  home. 

This  reversal  of  procedure,  which  causes 
the  food  to  be  prepared  before  the  larder, 
whereas  hitherto  we  have  seen  the  larder 
come  before  the  food,  I  attribute  to  the 
weight  of  the  Sphex'  prey,  a  prey  which  it  is 
not  possible  to  carry  far  through  the  air.  It 
is  not  that  the  Languedocian  Sphex  is  ill-built 
for  flight:  on  the  contrary,  she  can  soar  mag- 
nificently; but  the  prey  which  she  hunts  would 
weigh  her  down  if  she  had  no  other  support 
than  her  wings.  She  needs  the  support  of 
156 


The  Languedocian  Sphex 

the  ground  for  her  hauling-work,  in  which 
she  displays  wonderful  strength.  When 
laden  with  her  prey,  she  always  goes  afoot, 
or  takes  but  very  short  flights,  even  under 
conditions  when  flight  would  save  her  time 
and  trouble.  I  will  quote  an  instance  taken 
from  my  latest  observations  on  this  curious 
Wasp. 

A  Sphex  appears  unexpectedly,  coming  I 
know  not  whence.  She  is  on  foot,  dragging 
her  Ephippiger,  a  capture  which  apparently 
she  has  made  that  moment  in  the  neighbour- 
hood. In  the  circumstances,  it  behoves  her 
to  dig  herself  a  burrow.  The  site  is  as  bad 
as  bad  can  be.  It  is  a  well-beaten  path,  hard 
as  stone.  The  Sphex,  who  has  no  time  to 
make  laborious  excavations,  because  the  al- 
ready captured  prize  must  be  stored  as  quickly 
as  possible,  the  Sphex  wants  soft  ground, 
wherein  the  larva's  chamber  can  be  contrived 
in  one  short  spell  of  work.  I  have  described 
her  favourite  soil,  namely,  the  dust  of  years 
which  has  accumulated  at  the  bottom  of  some 
hole  in  a  wall  or  of  some  little  shelter  under 
the  rocks.  Well,  the  Sphex  whom  I  am  now 
observing  stops  at  the  foot  of  a  house  with  a 
newly-whitewashed  front  some  twenty  to 
twenty-five  feet  high.  Her  instinct  tells  her 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

that  up  there,  under  the  red  tiles  of  the  roof, 
she  will  find  nooks  rich  in  old  dust.  She 
leaves  her  prey  at  the  foot  of  the  house  and 
flies  up  to  the  roof.  For  some  time,  I  see 
her  looking  here,  there  and  everywhere. 
After  finding  a  proper  site,  she  begins  to  work 
under  the  curve  of  a  pantile.  In  ten  minutes 
or  fifteen  at  most,  the  home  is  ready.  The 
insect  now  flies  down  again.  The  Ephip- 
piger  is  promptly  found.  She  has  to  be  taken 
up.  Will  this  be  done  on  the  wing,  as  cir- 
cumstances seem  to  demand?  Not  at  all. 
The  Sphex  adopts  the  toilsome  method  of 
scaling  a  perpendicular  wall,  with  a  surface 
smoothed  by  the  mason's  trowel  and  measur- 
ing twenty  to  twenty-five  feet  in  height.  See- 
ing her  take  this  road,  dragging  the  game 
between  her  legs,  I  at  first  think  the  feat  im- 
possible; but  I  am  soon  reassured  as  to  the 
outcome  of  the  bold  attempt.  Getting  a 
foothold  on  the  little  roughnesses  in  the  mor- 
tar, the  plucky  insect,  despite  the  hindrance  of 
her  heavy  load,  walks  up  this  vertical  plane 
with  the  same  assured  gait  and  the  same  speed 
as  on  level  ground.  The  top  is  reached  with- 
out the  least  accident;  and  the  prey  is  laid 
temporarily  on  the  edge  of  the  roof,  upon  the 
'58 


The  Languedocian  Sphex 

rounded  back  of  a  tile.  While  the  digger 
gives  a  finishing  touch  to  the  burrow,  the 
badly-balanced  prey  slips  and  drops  to  the 
foot  of  the  wall.  The  thing  must  be  done  all 
over  again  and  once  more  by  laboriously 
climbing  the  height.  The  same  mistake  is  re- 
peated. Again  the  prey  is  incautiously  left 
on  the  curved  tile,  again  it  slips  and  again  it 
falls  to  the  ground.  With  a  composure 
which  accidents  such  as  these  cannot  disturb, 
the  Sphex  for  the  third  time  hoists  up  the 
Ephippiger  by  scaling  the  wall  and,  better- 
advised,  drags  her  forthwith  right  into  the 
home. 

As  even  under  these  conditions  no  attempt 
has  been  made  to  carry  the  prey  on  the  wing, 
it  is  clear  that  the  Wasp  is  incapable  of  long 
flight  with  so  heavy  a  load.  To  this  in- 
capacity we  owe  the  few  characteristics  that 
form  the  subject  of  this  chapter.  A  quarry 
that  is  not  too  big  to  permit  the  effort  of  fly- 
ing makes  of  the  Yellow-winged  Sphex  a 
semisocial  species,  that  is  to  say,  one  seeking 
the  company  of  her  fellows;  a  quarry  too 
heavy  to  carry  through  the  air  makes  of  the 
Languedocian  Sphex  a  species  vowed  to  soli- 
tary labour,  a  sort  of  savage  disdainful  of 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

the  pleasures  that  come  from  the  proximity 
of  one's  kind.  The  lighter  or  heavier  weight 
of  the  game  selected  here  determines  the 
fundamental  character  of  the  huntress. 


160 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   WISDOM   OF   INSTINCT 

TO  paralyse  her  prey,  the  Languedocian 
Sphex,  I  have  no  doubt,  pursues  the 
method  of  the  Cricket-huntress  and  drives  her 
lancet  repeatedly  into  the  Ephippiger's  breast 
in  order  to  strike  the  ganglia  of  the  thorax. 
The  process  of  wounding  the  nerve-centres 
must  be  familiar  to  her;  and  I  am  convinced 
beforehand  of  her  consummate  skill  in  that 
scientific  operation.  This  is  an  art  tho- 
roughly known  to  all  the  Hunting  Wasps, 
who  carry  a  poisoned  dart  that  has  not  been 
given  them  in  vain.  At  the  same  time,  I 
must  confess  that  I  have  never  yet  succeeded 
in  witnessing  the  deadly  performance.  This 
omission  is  due  to  the  solitary  life  led  by  the 
Languedocian  Sphex. 

When  a  number  of  burrows  are  dug  on  a 
common  site  and  then  provisioned,  one  has 
but  to  wait  on  the  spot  to  see  how  one  hunt- 
ress and  now  another  arrive  with  the  game 
which  they  have  caught.  It  is  easy  in  these 
circumstances  to  try  upon  the  new  arrivals  the 
161 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

substitution  of  a  live  prey  for  the  doomed 
victim  and  to  repeat  the  experiment  as  often 
as  we  wish.  Besides,  the  certainty  that  we 
shall  not  lack  subjects  of  observation,  as  and 
when  wanted,  enables  us  to  arrange  every- 
thing in  advance.  With  the  Languedocian 
Sphex,  these  conditions  of  success  do  not  ex- 
ist. To  set  out  expressly  to  look  for  her, 
with  one's  material  prepared,  is  almost  use- 
less, as  the  solitary  insect  is  scattered  one  by 
one  over  vast  expanses  of  ground.  More- 
over, if  you  do  come  upon  her,  it  will  most 
often  be  in  an  idle  hour  and  you  will  get  no- 
thing out  of  her.  As  I  said  before,  it  is 
nearly  always  unexpectedly,  when  your 
thoughts  are  elsewhere  engaged,  that  the 
Sphex  appears,  dragging  her  Ephippiger 
after  her. 

This  is  the  moment,  the  only  propitious 
moment  to  attempt  a  substitution  of  prey  and 
invite  the  huntress  to  let  you  witness  her 
lancet-thrusts.  Quick,  let  us  procure  an  al- 
ternative morsel,  a  live  Ephippiger !  Hurry, 
time  presses:  in  a  few  minutes,  the  burrow 
will  have  received  the  victuals  and  the  glori- 
ous occasion  will  be  lostl  Must  I  speak  of 
my  mortification  at  these  moments  of  good 
fortune,  the  mocking  bait  held  out  by  chance  ? 
162 


The  Wisdom  of  Instinct 

Here,  before  my  eyes,  is  matter  for  interest- 
ing observations;  and  I  cannot  profit  by  it! 
I  cannot  surprise  the  Sphex'  secret  for  the  lack 
of  something  to  offer  her  in  the  place  of  her 
prize !  Try  it  for  yourself,  try  setting  out  in 
quest  of  an  alternative  piece  with  only  a  few 
minutes  at  your  disposal,  when  it  took  me 
three  days  of  wild  running  about  before  I 
found  Weevils  for  my  Cerceres !  And  yet  I 
made  the  desperate  experiment  twice  over. 
Ah,  if  the  keeper  had  caught  me  this  time, 
tearing  like  mad  through  the  vineyards,  what 
a  good  opportunity  it  would  have  been  for 
crediting  me  with  robbery  and  having  me  up 
before  the  magistrate !  Vine-branches  and 
clusters  of  grapes :  not  a  thing  did  I  respect 
in  my  mad  rush,  hampered  by  the  trailing 
shoots.  I  must  have  an  Ephippiger  at  all 
costs,  I  must  have  him  that  moment.  And 
once  I  did  get  my  Ephippiger  during  one  of 
these  frenzied  expeditions.  I  was  radiant 
with  joy,  never  suspecting  the  bitter  disap- 
pointment in  store  for  me. 

If  only  I  arrive  in  time,  if  only  the  Sphex 
be  still  engaged  in  transport  work!  Thank 
heaven,  everything  is  in  my  favour!  The 
Wasp  is  still  some  distance  away  from  her 
burrow  and  still  dragging  her  prize  along. 
163 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

With  my  forceps  I  pull  gently  at  it  from 
behind.  The  huntress  resists,  stubbornly 
clutches  the  antennae  of  her  victim  and  refuses 
to  let  go.  I  pull  harder,  even  drawing  the 
carter  back  as  well;  it  makes  no  difference: 
the  Sphex  does  not  loose  her  hold.  I  have 
with  me  a  pair  of  sharp  scissors,  belonging  to 
my  little  entomological  case.  I  use  them  and 
promptly  cut  the  harness-ropes,  the  Ephip- 
piger's  long  antennae.  The  Sphex  continues 
to  move  ahead,  but  soon  stops,  astonished  at 
the  sudden  decrease  in  the  weight  of  the  bur- 
den which  she  is  trailing,  for  this  burden  is 
now  reduced  merely  to  the  two  antennas, 
snipped  off  by  my  mischievous  wiles.  The 
real  load,  the  heavy,  pot-bellied  insect,  re- 
mains behind  and  is  instantly  replaced  by  my 
live  specimen.  The  Wasp  turns  round,  lets 
go  the  ropes  that  now  draw  nothing  after 
them  and  retraces  her  steps.  She  comes  face 
to  face  with  the  prey  substituted  for  her  own. 
She  examines  it,  walks  round  it  gingerly,  then 
stops,  moistens  her  foot  with  saliva  and  be- 
gins to  wash  her  eyes.  In  this  attitude  of 
meditation,  can  some  such  thought  as  the  fol- 
lowing pass  through  her  mind : 

"  Come    now  1     Am    I    awake    or   am    I 
asleep?     Do  I  know  what  I  am  about  or  do 
164 


The  Wisdom  of  Instinct 

I  not?     That  thing's  not  mine.     Who  or 

what  is  trying  to  humbug  me?  " 

At  any  rate,  the  Sphex  shows  no  great 
hurry  to  attack  my  prey  with  her  mandibles. 
She  keeps  away  from  it  and  shows  not  the 
smallest  wish  to  seize  it.  To  excite  her,  I 
offer  the  insect  to  her  in  my  fingers,  I  almost 
thrust  the  antennae  under  her  teeth.  I  know 
that  she  does  not  suffer  from  shyness;  I  know 
that  she  will  come  and  take  from  your  fingers, 
without  hesitation,  the  prey  which  you  have 
snatched  from  her  and  afterwards  present 
to  her.  But  what  is  this?  Scorning  my  of- 
fers, the  Sphex  retreats  instead  of  snapping 
up  what  I  place  within  her  reach.  I  put 
down  the  Ephippiger,  who,  obeying  a 
thoughtless  impulse,  unconscious  of  danger, 
goes  straight  to  his  assassin.  Now  we  shall 
see !  Alas,  no :  the  Sphex  continues  to  recoil, 
like  a  regular  coward,  and  ends  by  flying 
away.  I  never  saw  her  again.  Thus  ended, 
to  my  confusion,  an  experiment  that  had  filled 
me  with  such  enthusiasm. 

Later  and  by  degrees,  as  I  inspected  an  in- 
creasing number  of  burrows,  I  came  to  under- 
stand my  failure  and  the  obstinate  refusal  of 
the  Sphex.  I  always  found  the  provisions  to 
consist,  without  a  single  exception,  of  a 
165 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

female  Ephippiger,  harbouring  in  her  belly 
a  copious  and  succulent  cluster  of  eggs.  This 
appears  to  be  the  favourite  food  of  the  grubs. 
Well,  in  my  hurried  rush  through  the  vines,  I 
had  laid  my  hands  on  an  Ephippiger  of  the 
other  sex.  I  was  offering  the  Sphex  a  male. 
More  far-seeing  than  I  in  this  important  ques- 
tion of  provender,  the  Wasp  would  have  no- 
thing to  say  to  my  game : 

"  A  male,  indeed !  Is  that  a  dinner  for 
my  larvae  ?  What  do  you  take  them  for  ?  " 

What  nice  discrimination  they  have,  these 
dainty  epicures,  who  are  able  to  differentiate 
between  the  tender  flesh  of  the  female  and  the 
comparatively  dry  flesh  of  the  males !  What 
an  unerring  glance,  which  can  distinguish  at 
once  between  the  two  sexes,  so  much  alike  in 
shape  and  colour!  The  female  carries  a 
sword  at  the  tip  of  her  abdomen,  the  oviposi- 
tor wherewith  the  eggs  are  buried  in  the 
ground;  and  that  is  about  the  only  external 
difference  between  her  and  the  male.  This 
distinguishing  feature  never  escapes  the  per- 
spicacious Sphex;  and  that  is  why,  in  my  ex- 
periment, the  Wasp  rubbed  her  eyes,  hugely 
puzzled  at  beholding  swordless  a  prey  which 
she  well  knew  carried  a  sword  when  she 
caught  it.  What  must  not  have  passed 
1 66 


The  Wisdom  of  Instinct 

through  her  little  Sphex  brain  at  the  sight  of 
this  transformation? 

Let  us  now  watch  the  Wasp  when,  having 
prepared  the  burrow,  she  goes  back  for  her 
victim,  which,  after  its  capture  and  the  opera- 
tion that  paralysed  it,  she  has  left  at  no  great 
distance.  The  Ephippiger  is  in  a  condition 
similar  to  that  of  the  Cricket  sacrificed  by  the 
Yellow-winged  Sphex,  a  condition  proving 
for  certain  that  stings  have  been  driven  into 
her  thoracic  ganglia.  Nevertheless,  a  good 
many  movements  still  continue;  but  they  are 
disconnected,  though  endowed  with  a  certain 
vigour.  Incapable  of  standing  on  its  legs, 
the  insect  lies  on  its  side  or  on  its  back.  It 
flutters  its  long  antennae  and  also  its  palpi;  it 
opens  and  closes  its  mandibles  and  bites  as 
hard  as  in  the  normal  state.  The  abdomen 
heaves  rapidly  and  deeply.  The  ovipositor 
is  brought  back  sharply  under  the  belly, 
against  which  it  almost  lies  flat.  The  legs 
stir,  but  languidly  and  irregularly;  the  middle 
legs  seem  more  torpid  than  the  others.  If 
pricked  with  a  needle,  the  whole  body  shud- 
ders convulsively;  efforts  are  made  to  get  up 
and  walk,  but  without  success.  In  short,  the 
insect  would  be  full  of  life,  but  for  its  inability 
to  move  about  or  even  to  stand  upon  its  legs. 
167 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

We  have  here  therefore  a  wholly  local  para- 
lysis, a  paralysis  of  the  legs,  or  rather  a  par- 
tial abolition  and  ataxy  of  their  movements. 
Can  this  very  incomplete  inertia  be  caused  by 
some  special  arrangement  of  the  victim's 
nervous  system,  or  does  it  come  from  this, 
that  the  Wasp  perhaps  administers  only  a 
single  prick,  instead  of  stinging  each  ganglion 
of  the  thorax,  as  the  Cricket-huntress  does? 
I  cannot  tell. 

Still,  for  all  its  shivering,  its  convulsions, 
its  disconnected  movements,  the  victim  is 
none  the  less  incapable  of  hurting  the  larva 
that  is  meant  to  devour  it.  I  have  taken 
from  the  burrow  of  the  Sphex  Ephippigers 
struggling  just  as  lustily  as  when  they  were 
first  half-paralysed;  and  nevertheless  the 
feeble  grub,  hatched  but  a  few  hours  since, 
was  digging  its  teeth  into  the  gigantic  victim 
in  all  security;  the  dwarf  was  biting  into  the 
colossus  without  danger  to  itself.  This  strik- 
ing result  is  due  to  the  spot  selected  by  the 
mother  for  laying  her  egg.  I  have  already 
said  how  the  Yellow-winged  Sphex  glues  her 
egg  to  the  Cricket's  breast,  a  little  to  one 
side,  between  the  first  and  second  pair  of 
legs.  Exactly  the  same  place  is  chosen  by 
the  White-edged  Sphex;  and  a  similar  place, 
168 


The  Wisdom  of  Instinct 

a  little  farther  back,  towards  the  root  of  one 
of  the  large  hind-thighs,  is  adopted  by  the 
Languedocian  Sphex,  all  three  thus  giving 
proof,  by  this  uniformity,  of  wonderful  dis- 
cernment in  picking  out  the  spot  where  the 
egg  is  bound  to  be  safe. 

Consider  the  Ephippiger  pent  in  the  bur- 
row. She  lies  stretched  upon  her  back,  abso- 
lutely incapable  of  turning.  In  vain,  she 
struggles,  in  vain  she  writhes :  the  disordered 
movements  of  her  legs  are  lost  in  space,  the 
room  being  too  wide  to  afford  them  the  sup- 
port of  its  walls.  The  grub  cares  nothing 
for  the  victim's  convulsions:  it  is  at  a  spot 
where  naught  can  reach  it,  not  tarsi,  nor  man- 
dibles, nor  ovipositor,  nor  antennae;  a  spot 
absolutely  stationary,  devoid  of  so  much  as 
a  surface  tremor.  It  is  in  perfect  safety,  on 
the  sole  condition  that  the  Ephippiger  cannot 
shift  her  position,  turn  over,  get  upon  her 
feet;  and  this  one  condition  is  admirably  ful- 
filled. 

But,  with  several  heads  of  game,  all  in  the 
same  stage  of  paralysis,  the  larva's  danger 
would  be  great.  Though  it  would  have  no- 
thing to  fear  from  the  insect  first  attacked, 
because  of  its  position  out  of  the  reach  of  its 
victim,  it  would  have  every  occasion  to  dread 
169 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

the  proximity  of  the  others,  which,  stretching 
their  legs  at  random,  might  strike  it  and  rip 
it  open  with  their  spurs.  This  is  perhaps  the 
reason  why  the  Yellow-winged  Sphex,  who 
heaps  up  three  or  four  Crickets  in  the  same 
cell,  practically  annihilates  all  movement  in 
its  victims,  whereas  the  Languedocian  Sphex, 
victualling  each  burrow  with  a  single  piece  of 
game,  leaves  her  Ephippigers  the  best  part  of 
their  power  of  motion  and  contents  herself 
with  making  it  impossible  for  them  to  change 
their  position  or  stand  upon  their  legs.  She 
may  thus,  though  I  cannot  say  so  positively, 
economize  her  dagger-thrusts. 

While  the  only  half-paralysed  Ephippiger 
cannot  imperil  the  larva,  fixed  on  a  part  of 
the  body  where  resistance  is  impossible,  the 
case  is  different  with  the  Sphex,  who  has  to 
cart  her  prize  home.  First,  having  still,  to  a 
great  extent,  preserved  the  use  of  its  tarsi,  the 
victim  clutches  with  these  at  any  blade  of 
grass  encountered  on  the  road  along  which  it 
is  being  dragged;  and  this  produces  an  obsta- 
cle to  the  hauling-process  which  is  difficult  to 
overcome.  The  Sphex,  already  heavily  bur- 
dened by  the  weight  of  her  load,  is  liable  to 
exhaust  herself  with  her  efforts  to  make  the 
Other  insect  relax  its  desperate  grip  in  grassy 
170 


The  Wisdom  of  Instinct 

places.  But  this  is  the  least  serious  draw- 
back. The  Ephippiger  preserves  the  com- 
plete use  of  her  mandibles,  which  snap  and 
bite  with  their  customary  vigour.  Now  what 
these  terrible  nippers  have  in  front  of  them  is 
just  the  slender  body  of  the  enemy,  at  a  time 
when  she  is  in  her  hauling-attitude.  The  an- 
tennse,  in  fact,  are  grasped  not  far  from  their 
roots,  so  that  the  mouth  of  the  victim  dragged 
along  on  its  back  faces  either  the  thorax  or 
the  abdomen  of  the  Sphex,  who,  standing 
high  on  her  long  legs,  takes  good  care,  I  am 
convinced,  not  to  be  caught  in  the  mandibles 
yawning  underneath  her.  At  all  events,  a 
moment  of  forgetfulness,  a  slip,  the  merest 
trifle  can  bring  her  within  the  reach  of  two 
powerful  nippers,  which  would  not  neglect  the 
opportunity  of  taking  a  pitiless  vengeance. 
In  the  more  difficult  cases  at  any  rate,  if  not 
always,  the  action  of  those  formidable  pincers 
must  be  done  away  with;  and  the  fish-hooks 
of  the  legs  must  be  rendered  incapable  of  in- 
creasing their  resistance  to  the  process  of 
transport. 

How  will  the  Sphex  go  to  work  to  obtain 
this  result?  Here  man,  even  the  man  of  sci- 
ence, would  hesitate,  would  waste  his  time  in 
barren  efforts  and  would  perhaps  abandon  all 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

hope  of  success.  He  can  come  and  take  one 
lesson  from  the  Sphex.  She,  without  ever 
being  taught  it,  without  ever  seeing  it  prac- 
tised by  others,  understands  her  surgery 
through  and  through.  She  knows  the  most 
delicate  mysteries  of  the  physiology  of  the 
nerves,  or  rather  she  behaves  as  if  she  did. 
She  knows  that  under  her  victim's  skull  there 
is  a  circlet  of  nervous  nuclei,  something  simi- 
lar to  the  brain  of  the  higher  animals.  She 
knows  that  this  main  centre  of  innervation 
controls  the  action  of  the  mouth-parts  and 
moreover  is  the  seat  of  the  will,  without 
whose  orders  not  a  single  muscle  acts;  lastly, 
she  knows  that,  by  injuring  this  sort  of  brain, 
she  will  cause  all  resistance  to  cease,  the  insect 
no  longer  possessing  any  will  to  resist.  As 
for  the  mode  of  operating,  this  is  the  easiest 
matter  in  the  world  to  her;  and,  when  we 
have  been  taught  in  her  school,  we  are  free 
to  try  her  process  in  our  turn.  The  instru- 
ment employed  is  no  longer  the  sting:  the  in- 
sect, in  its  wisdom,  has  deemed  compression 
preferable  to  a  poisoned  thrust.  Let  us  ac- 
cept its  decision,  for  we  shall  see  presently 
how  prudent  it  is  to  be  convinced  of  our  own 
ignorance  in  the  presence  of  the  animal's 
knowledge.  Lest  by  editing  my  account  I 
172 


The  Wisdom  of  Instinct 

should  fail  to  give  a  true  impression  of  the 
sublime  talent  of  this  masterly  operator,  I 
here  copy  out  my  note  as  I  pencilled  it  on  the 
spot,  immediately  after  the  stirring  specta- 
cle. 

The  Sphex  finds  that  her  victim  is  offering 
too  much  resistance,  hooking  itself  here  and 
there  to  blades  of  grass.  She  then  stops  to 
perform  upon  it  the  following  curious  opera- 
tion, a  sort  of  coup  de  grace.  The  Wasp, 
still  astride  her  prey,  forces  open  the  articula- 
tion of  the  neck,  high  up,  at  the  nape.  Then 
she  seizes  the  neck  with  her  mandibles  and, 
without  making  any  external  wound,  probes 
as  far  forward  as  possible  under  the  skull,  so 
as  to  seize  and  chew  up  the  ganglia  of  the 
head.  When  this  operation  is  done,  the  vic- 
tim is  utterly  motionless,  incapable  of  the 
least  resistance,  whereas  previously  the  legs, 
though  deprived  of  the  power  of  connected 
movement  needed  for  walking,  vigorously  op- 
posed the  process  of  traction. 

There  is  the  fact  in  all  its  eloquence. 
With  the  points  of  its  mandibles,  the  insect, 
while  leaving  uninjured  the  thin  and  supple 
membrane  of  the  neck,  goes  rummaging  into 
the  skull  and  munching  the  brain.  There  is 
no  effusion  of  blood,  no  wound,  but  simply  an 
173 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

external  pressure.  Of  course,  I  kept  for  my 
own  purposes  the  Ephippiger  paralysed  be- 
fore my  eyes,  in  order  to  ascertain  the  effects 
of  the  operation  at  my  leisure;  also  of  course, 
I  hastened  to  repeat  in  my  turn,  upon  live 
Ephippigers,  what  the  Sphex  had  just  taught 
me.  I  will  here  compare  my  results  with  the 
Wasp's. 

Two  Ephippigers  whose  cervical  ganglia  I 
squeeze  and  compress  with  a  forceps  fall  rap- 
idly into  a  state  resembling  that  of  the  victims 
of  the  Sphex.  Only,  they  grate  their  cym- 
bals if  I  tease  them  with  a  needle;  and  the 
legs  still  retain  a  few  disordered  and  languid 
movements.  The  difference  no  doubt  is  due 
to  the  fact  that  my  patients  were  not  previ- 
ously injured  in  their  thoracic  ganglia,  as  were 
those  of  the  Sphex,  who  were  first  stung  on 
the  breast.  Allowing  for  this  important  con- 
dition, we  see  that  I  was  none  too  bad  a  pupil 
and  that  I  imitated  pretty  closely  my  teacher 
of  physiology,  the  Sphex.  I  confess,  it  was 
not  without  a  certain  satisfaction  that  I  suc- 
ceeded in  doing  almost  as  well  as  the  insect. 

As    well?     What    am    I    talking    about? 

Wait  a  bit  and  you  shall  see  that  I  still  have 

much  to  learn  from  the  Sphex.     For  what 

happens  is  that  my  two  patients  very  soon  die : 

174 


The  Wisdom  of  Instinct 

I  mean,  they  really  die;  and,  in  four  or  five 
days,  I  have  nothing  but  putrid  corpses  before 
my  eyes.  And  the  Wasp's  Ephippiger?  I 
need  hardly  say  that  the  Wasp's  Ephippiger, 
even  ten  days  after  the  operation,  is  perfectly 
fresh,  just  as  she  will  be  required  by  the  larva 
for  which  she  has  been  destined.  Nay, 
more:  only  a  few  hours  after  the  operation 
under  the  skull,  there  reappeared,  as  though 
nothing  had  occurred,  the  disorderly  move- 
ments of  the  legs,  antennae,  palpi,  ovipositor 
and  mandibles;  in  a  word,  the  insect  returned 
to  the  condition  wherein  it  was  before  the 
Sphex  bit  its  brain.  And  these  movements 
were  kept  up  after,  though  they  became 
feebler  every  day.  The  Sphex  had  merely 
reduced  her  victim  to  a  passing  state  of  tor- 
por, lasting  amply  long  enough  to  enable  her 
to  bring  it  home  without  resistance;  and  I, 
who  thought  myself  her  rival,  was  but  a 
clumsy  and  barbarous  butcher:  I  killed  my 
prize.  She,  with  her  inimitable  dexterity, 
shrewdly  compressed  the  brain  to  produce  a 
lethargy  of  a  few  hours;  I,  brutal  through 
ignorance,  perhaps  crushed  under  my  forceps 
that  delicate  organ,  the  main  seat  of  life.  If 
anything  could  prevent  me  from  blushing  at 
my  defeat,  it  would  be  the  conviction  that 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

very  few,  if  any,  could  vie  with  these  clever 
ones  in  cleverness. 

Ah,  I  now  understand  why  the  Sphex  does 
not  use  her  sting  to  injure  the  cervical  gan- 
glia !  A  drop  of  poison  injected  here,  at  the 
centre  of  vital  force,  would  destroy  the  whole 
nervous  system ;  and  death  would  follow  soon 
after.  But  it  is  not  death  that  the  huntress 
wishes  to  obtain;  the  larvae  have  not  the  least 
use  for  dead  game,  for  a  corpse,  in  short, 
smelling  of  corruption;  and  all  that  she  wants 
to  bring  about  is  a  lethargy,  a  passing  torpor, 
which  will  put  a  stop  to  the  victim's  resistance 
during  the  carting  process,  this  resistance 
being  difficult  to  overcome  and  moreover  dan- 
gerous for  the  Sphex.  The  torpor  is  ob- 
tained by  a  method  known  in  laboratories  of 
experimental  physiology:  compression  of  the 
brain.  The  Sphex  acts  like  a  Flourens,1  who, 
laying  bare  an  animal's  brain  and  bearing 
upon  the  cerebral  mass,  forthwith  suppresses 
intelligence,  will,  sensibility  and  movement. 
The  pressure  is  removed;  and  everything  re- 
appears. Even  so  do  the  remains  of  the 
Ephippiger's  life  reappear,  as  the  lethargic 
effects  of  a  skilfully-directed  pressure  pass  off. 

1  Cf.  p.  45  ».  Flourens'  Experiences  sur  le  systeme 
nerveux  were  first  published  in  1825. — Tranjlator's 
Note. 

I76 


The  Wisdom  of  Instinct 

The  ganglia  of  the  skull,  squeezed  between 
the  mandibles  but  without  fatal  contusions, 
gradually  recover  their  activity  and  put  an 
end  to  the  general  torpor.  Admit  that  it  is 
all  alarmingly  scientific. 


*** 


Fortune  has  her  entomological  whims :  you 
run  after  her  and  catch  no  glimpse  of  her; 
you  forget  about  her  and  behold,  she  comes 
tapping  at  your  door!  How  vainly  I 
watched  and  waited,  how  many  useless  jour- 
neys I  made  to  see  the  Languedocian  Sphex 
sacrifice  her  Ephippigers!  Twenty  years 
pass;  these  pages  are  in  the  printer's  hands; 
and,  one  day  early  this  month,  on  the  8th  of 
August  1878,  my  son  Emile  comes  rushing 
into  my  study : 

"  Quick !  "  he  shouts.  "  Come  quick : 
there's  a  Sphex  dragging  her  prey  under  the 
plane-trees,  outside  the  door  of  the  yard!  " 

fimile  knew  all  about  the  business,  from 
what  I  had  told  him,  to  amuse  him  when  we 
used  to  sit  up  late,  and  better  still  from  simi- 
lar incidents  which  he  had  witnessed  in  our 
life  out  of  doors.  He  is  right.  I  run  out  and 
177 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

see  a  magnificent  Languedocian  Sphex  drag- 
ging a  paralysed  Ephippiger  by  the  antennae. 
She  is  making  for  the  hen-house  close  by  and 
seems  anxious  to  scale  the  wall,  with  the  ob- 
ject of  fixing  her  burrow  under  some  tile  on 
the  roof;  for,  a  few  years  ago,  in  the  same 
place,  I  saw  a  Sphex  of  the  same  species  ac- 
complish the  ascent  with  her  game  and  make 
her  home  under  the  arch  of  a  badly-joined 
tile.  Perhaps  the  present  Wasp  is  descended 
from  the  one  who  performed  that  arduous 
climb. 

A  like  feat  seems  about  to  be  repeated; 
and  this  time  before  numerous  witnesses,  for 
all  the  family,  working  under  the  shade  of 
the  plane-trees,  come  and  form  a  circle 
around  the  Sphex.  They  wonder  at  the  un- 
ceremonious boldness  of  the  insect,  which  is 
not  diverted  from  its  work  by  a  gallery  of 
onlookers;  all  are  struck  by  its  proud  and 
lusty  bearing,  as,  with  raised  head  and  the 
victim's  antennae  firmly  gripped  in  its  mandi- 
bles, it  drags  the  enormous  burden  after  it. 
I,  alone  among  the  spectators,  feel  a  twinge 
of  regret  at  the  sight : 

"  Ah,    if   only   I    had   some   live   Ephip- 
pigers  1  "  I  cannot  help  saying,  with  not  the 
least  hope  of  seeing  my  wish  realized. 
178 


The  Wisdom  of  Instinct 

"Live  Ephippigers? "  replies  £mile. 
"  Why,  I  have  some  perfectly  fresh  ones, 
caught  this  morning!  " 

He  dashes  upstairs,  four  steps  at  a  time, 
and  runs  to  his  little  den,  where  a  fence  of 
dictionaries  encloses  a  park  for  the  rearing 
of  some  fine  caterpillars  of  the  Spurge  Hawk- 
moth.  He  brings  me  three  Ephippigers,  the 
best  that  I  could  wish  for,  two  females  and  a 
male. 

How  did  these  insects  come  to  be  at  hand, 
at  the  moment  when  they  were  wanted,  for 
an  experiment  tried  in  vain  twenty  years  ago  ? 
That  is  another  story.  A  Lesser  Grey 
Shrike  had  nested  in  one  of  the  tall  plane- 
trees  of  the  avenue.  Now  a  few  days  earlier, 
the  mistral,  the  brutal  north-west  wind  of  our 
parts,  blew  with  such  violence  as  to  bend  the 
branches  as  well  as  the  reeds;  and  the  nest, 
turned  upside  down  by  the  swaying  of  its 
support,  had  dropped  its  contents,  four  small 
birds.  Next  morning,  I  found  the  brood 
upon  the  ground ;  three  were  killed  by  the  fall, 
the  fourth  was  still  alive.  The  survivor  was 
entrusted  to  the  cares  of  £mile,  who  went 
Cricket-hunting  twice  a  day  on  the  neighbour- 
ing grass-plots  for  the  benefit  of  his  young 
charge.  But  Crickets  are  small  and  the 
179 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

nurseling's  appetite  called  for  many  of  them. 
Another  dish  was  preferred,  the  Ephippiger, 
of  whom  a  stock  was  collected  from  time  to 
time  among  the  stalks  and  prickly  leaves  of 
the  eryngo.  The  three  insects  which  £mile 
brought  me  came  from  the  Shrike's  larder. 
My  pity  for  the  fallen  nestling  had  procured 
me  this  unhoped-for  success. 

After  making  the  circle  of  spectators  stand 
back  so  as  to  leave  the  field  clear  for  the 
Sphex,  I  take  away  her  prey  with  a  pair  of 
pincers  and  at  once  give  her  in  exchange  one 
of  my  Ephippigers,  carrying  a  sword  at  the 
end  of  her  belly,  like  the  game  which  I  have 
abstracted.  The  dispossessed  Wasp  stamps 
her  feet  two  or  three  times;  and  that  is  the 
only  sign  of  impatience  which  she  gives.  She 
goes  for  her  new  prey,  which  is  too  stout,  too 
obese  even  to  try  to  avoid  pursuit,  grips  it 
with  her  mandibles  by  the  saddle-shaped 
corselet,  gets  astride  and,  curving  her  abdo- 
men, slips  the  end  of  it  under  the  Ephip- 
piger's  thorax.  Here,  no  doubt,  some  stings 
are  administered,  though  I  am  unable  to  state 
the  number  exactly,  because  of  the  difficulty  of 
observation.  The  Ephippiger,  a  peaceable 
victim,  suffers  herself  to  be  operated  on  with- 
out resistance;  she  is  like  the  silly  Sheep  of 
180 


The  Wisdom  of  Instinct 

our  slaughter-houses.  The  Sphex  takes  her 
time  and  wields  her  lancet  with  a  deliberation 
which  favours  accuracy  of  aim.  So  far,  the 
observer  has  nothing  to  complain  of;  but  the 
prey  touches  the  ground  with  its  breast  and 
belly  and  exactly  what  happens  underneath 
escapes  his  eye.  As  for  interfering  and  lift- 
ing the  Ephippiger  a  little,  so  as  to  see  better, 
that  must  not  be  thought  of:  the  murderess 
would  resheathe  her  weapon  and  retire.  The 
act  that  follows  is  easy  to  observe.  After 
stabbing  the  thorax,  the  tip  of  the  abdomen 
appears  under  the  victim's  neck,  which  the 
operator  forces  open  by  pressing  the  nape. 
At  this  point,  the  sting  probes  with  marked 
persistency,  as  if  the  prick  administered  here 
were  more  effective  than  elsewhere.  One 
would  be  inclined  to  think  that  the  nerve-cen- 
tre attacked  is  the  lower  part  of  the  oeso- 
phageal  chain;  but  the  continuance  of  move- 
ment in  the  mouth-parts  —  the  mandibles, 
jaws  and  palpi  —  controlled  by  this  seat  of 
innervation  shows  that  such  is  not  the  case. 
Through  the  neck,  the  Sphex  reaches  simply 
the  ganglia  of  the  thorax,  or  at  any  rate  the 
first  of  them,  which  is  more  easily  accessible 
through  the  thin  skin  of  the  neck  than  through 
the  integuments  of  the  chest. 
181 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

And  in  a  moment  it  is  all  over.  Without 
the  least  shiver  denoting  pain,  the  Ephippiger 
becomes  henceforth  an  inert  mass.  I  remove 
the  Sphex'  patient  for  the  second  time  and 
replace  it  by  the  other  female  at  my  disposal. 
The  same  proceedings  are  repeated,  followed 
by  the  same  result.  The  Sphex  has  per- 
formed her  skilful  surgery  thrice  over,  almost 
in  immediate  succession,  first  with  her  own 
prey  and  then  with  my  substitutes.  Will  she 
do  so  a  fourth  time  with  the  male  Ephippiger 
whom  I  still  have  left?  I  have  my  doubts, 
not  because  the  Wasp  is  tired,  but  because  the 
game  does  not  suit  her.  I  have  never  seen 
her  with  any  prey  but  females,  who,  crammed 
with  eggs,  are  the  food  which  the  larvae  ap- 
preciate above  all  others.  My  suspicion  is 
well-founded;  deprived  of  her  capture,  the 
Sphex  stubbornly  refuses  the  male  whom  I 
offer  to  her.  She  runs  hither  and  thither, 
with  hurried  steps,  in  search  of  the  vanished 
game;  three  or  four  times,  she  goes  up  to  the 
Ephippiger,  walks  round  him,  casts  a  scorn- 
ful glance  at  him;  and  at  last  she  flies  away. 
He  is  not  what  her  larvae  want;  experiment 
demonstrates  this  once  again  after  an  interval 
of  twenty  years. 

The  three  females  stabbed,  two  of  them 
182 


The  Wisdom  of  Instinct 

before  my  eyes,  remain  in  my  possession.  In 
each  case,  all  the  legs  are  completely  para- 
lysed. Whether  lying  naturally,  on  its  belly 
or  on  its  back  or  side,  the  insect  retains  in- 
definitely whatever  position  we  give  it.  A 
continued  fluttering  of  the  antennae,  a  few 
intermittent  pulsations  of  the  belly  and  the 
play  of  the  mouth-parts  are  the  only  signs  of 
life.  Movement  is  destroyed  but  not  suscep- 
tibility; for,  at  the  least  prick  administered 
to  a  thin-skinned  spot,  the  whole  body  gives 
a  slight  shudder.  Perhaps,  some  day,  physi- 
ology will  find  in  such  victims  the  material 
for  valuable  work  on  the  functions  of  the 
nervous  system.  The  Wasp's  sting,  so  in- 
comparably skilful  at  striking  a  particular 
point  and  administering  a  wound  which  af- 
fects that  point  alone,  will  supplement,  with 
immense  advantage,  the  experimenter's  brutal 
scalpel,  which  rips  open  where  it  ought  to 
give  merely  a  light  touch.  Meanwhile,  here 
are  the  results  which  I  have  obtained  from 
the  three  victims,  but  in  another  direction. 

As  only  the  movement  of  the  legs  has  been 
destroyed,  without  any  wound  save  that  of 
the  nerve-centres,  which  are  the  seat  of  that 
movement,  the  insect  must  die  of  inanition 
and  not  of  its  injuries.  The  experiment  was 
183 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

conducted  as  follows :  two  sound  and  healthy 
Ephippigers,  just  as  I  picked  them  up  in  the 
fields,  were  imprisoned  without  food,  one  in 
the  dark,  the  other  in  the  light.  The  second 
died  in  four  days,  the  first  in  five.  This  dif- 
ference of  a  day  is  easily  explained.  In  the 
light,  the  insect  made  greater  exertions  to  re- 
cover its  liberty;  and,  as  every  movement  of 
the  animal  machine  is  accompanied  by  a  cor- 
responding expenditure  of  energy,  a  greater 
sum  total  of  activity  has  involved  a  more 
rapid  consumption  of  the  reserve  force  of  the 
organism.  In  the  light,  there  is  more  rest- 
lessness and  a  shorter  life;  in  the  dark,  less 
restlessness  and  a  longer  life,  while  no  food 
at  all  was  taken  in  either  case. 

One  of  my  three  stabbed  Ephippigers  was 
kept  in  the  dark,  fasting.  In  her  case,  there 
were  not  only  the  conditions  of  complete  ab- 
stinence and  darkness,  but  also  the  serious 
wounds  inflicted  by  the  Sphex;  and  neverthe- 
less for  seventeen  days  I  saw  her  continually 
waving  her  antennae.  As  long  as  this  sort 
of  pendulum  keeps  on  swinging,  the  clock  of 
life  does  not  stop.  On  the  eighteenth  day, 
the  creature  ceased  its  antennary  movements 
and  died.  The  badly-wounded  insect  there- 
fore lived,  under  the  same  conditions,  four 
184 


The  Wisdom  of  Instinct 

times  as  long  as  the  insect  that  was  untouched. 
What  seemed  as  though  it  should  be  a  cause 
of  death  was  really  a  cause  of  life. 

However  paradoxical  it  may  seem  at  first 
sight,  this  result  is  exceedingly  simple.  When 
untouched,  the  insect  exerts  itself  and  conse- 
quently uses  up  its  reserves.  When  para- 
lysed, it  has  merely  the  feeble,  internal  move- 
ments which  are  inseparable  from  any 
organism;  and  its  substance  is  economized  in 
proportion  to  the  weakness  of  the  action  dis- 
played. In  the  first  case,  the  animal  machine 
is  at  work  and  wears  itself  out;  in  the  second, 
it  is  at  rest  and  saves  itself.  There  being  no 
nourishment  now  to  repair  the  waste,  the 
moving  insect  spends  its  nutritive  reserves  in 
four  days  and  dies;  the  motionless  insect  does 
not  spend  them  and  lives  for  eighteen  days. 
Life  is  a  continual  dissolution,  the  physiolo- 
gists tell  us;  and  the  Sphex'  victims  give  us 
the  neatest  possible  demonstration  of  the  fact. 

One  remark  more.  Fresh  food  is  abso- 
lutely necessary  for  the  Wasp's  larvae.  If 
the  prey  were  warehoused  in  the  burrow  in- 
tact, in  four  or  five  days  it  would  be  a  corpse 
abandoned  to  corruption;  and  the  scarce- 
hatched  grub  would  find  nothing  to  live  upon 
but  a  putrid  mass.  Pricked  with  the  sting, 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

however,  it  can  keep  alive  for  two  or  three 
weeks,  a  period  more  than  long  enough  to 
allow  the  egg  to  hatch  and  the  larva  to  grow. 
The  paralysing  of  the  victim  therefore  has 
a  twofold  result:  first,  the  living  dish  remains 
motionless  and  the  safety  of  the  delicate  grub 
is  not  endangered;  secondly,  the  meat  keeps 
good  a  long  time  and  thus  ensures  wholesome 
food  for  the  larva.  Man's  logic,  enlight- 
ened by  science,  could  discover  nothing  better. 

My  two  other  Ephippigers  stung  by  the 
Sphex  were  kept  in  the  dark  with  food.  To 
feed  inert  insects,  hardly  differing  from 
corpses  except  by  the  perpetual  waving  of 
their  long  antennae,  seems  at  first  an  impossi- 
bility; still,  the  play  of  the  mouth-parts  gave 
me  some  hope  and  I  tried.  My  success  ex- 
ceeded my  anticipations.  There  was  no 
question  here,  of  course,  of  giving  them  a 
lettuce-leaf  or  any  other  piece  of  green  stuff 
on  which  they  might  have  browsed  in  their 
normal  state;  they  were  feeble  valetudina- 
rians, who  needed  spoon-feeding,  so  to  speak, 
and  supporting  with  liquid  nourishment.  I 
used  sugar-and-water. 

Laying  the  insect  on  its  back,  I  place  a  drop 
of  the  sugary  fluid  on  its  mouth  with  a  straw. 
The  palpi  at  once  begin  to  stir;  the  mandi- 
186 


•  The  Wisdom  of  Instinct 

bles  and  jaws  move.  The  drop  is  swallowed 
with  evident  satisfaction,  especially  after  a 
somewhat  prolonged  fast.  I  repeat  the  dose 
until  it  is  refused.  The  meal  takes  place 
once  a  day,  sometimes  twice,  at  irregular  in- 
tervals, lest  I  should  become  too  much  of  a 
slave  to  my  patients.  Well,  one  of  the 
Ephippigers  lived  for  twenty-one  days  on  this 
meagre  fare.  It  was  not  much,  compared 
with  the  eighteen  days  of  the  one  whom  I  had 
left  to  die  of  starvation.  True,  the  insect 
had  twice  had  a  bad  fall,  having  dropped 
from  the  experimenting-table  to  the  floor  ow- 
ing to  some  piece  of  awkwardness  on  my 
part.  The  bruises  which  it  received  must 
have  hastened  its  end.  The  other,  which  suf- 
fered no  accidents,  lived  for  forty  days.  As 
the  nourishment  employed,  sugar-and-water, 
could  not  indefinitely  take  the  place  of  the 
natural  green  food,  it  is  very  likely  that  the 
insect  would  have  lived  longer  still  if  the  usual 
diet  had  been  possible.  And  so  the  point 
which  I  had  in  view  is  proved:  the  victims 
stung  by  the  Digger-wasps  die  of  starvation 
and  not  of  their  wounds. 


187 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   IGNORANCE   OF   INSTINCT 

THE  Sphex  has  shown  us  how  infallibly 
and  with  what  transcendental  art  she 
acts  when  guided  by  the  unconscious  inspira- 
tion of  her  instinct;  she  is  now  going  to  show 
us  how  poor  she  is  in  resource,  how  limited 
in  intelligence,  how  illogical  even,  in  circum- 
stances outside  of  her  regular  routine.  By 
a  strange  inconsistency,  characteristic  of  the 
instinctive  faculties,  profound  wisdom  is 
accompanied  by  an  ignorance  no  less  pro- 
found. To  instinct  nothing  is  impossible, 
however  great  the  difficulty  may  be.  In 
building  her  hexagonal  cells,  with  their  floors 
consisting  of  three  lozenges,  the  Bee  solves 
with  absolute  precision  the  arduous  problem 
of  how  to  achieve  the  maximum  result  at  a 
minimum  cost,  a  problem  whose  solution  by 
man  would  demand  a  powerful  mathematical 
mind.  The  Wasps  whose  larvae  live  on  prey 
display  in  their  murderous  art  methods  hardly 
rivalled  by  those  of  a  man  versed  in  the  in- 
tricacies of  anatomy  and  physiology.  No- 
188 


The  Ignorance  of  Instinct 

thing  is  difficult  to  instinct,  so  long  as  the  act 
is  not  outside  the  unvarying  cycle  of  animal 
existence;  on  the  other  hand,  nothing  is  easy 
to  instinct,  if  the  act  is  at  all  removed  from 
the  course  usually  pursued.  The  insect  which 
astounds  us,  which  terrifies  us  with  its  ex- 
traordinary intelligence  surprises  us,  the  next 
moment,  with  its  stupidity,  when  confronted 
with  some  simple  fact  that  happens  to  lie  out- 
side its  ordinary  practice.  The  Sphex  will 
supply  us  with  a  few  instances. 

Let  us  follow  her  dragging  her  Ephippiger 
home.  If  fortune  smile  upon  us,  we  may 
witness  some  such  little  scene  as  that  which  I 
will  now  describe.  When  entering  her  shel- 
ter under  the  rock,  where  she  has  made  her 
burrow,  the  Sphex  finds,  perched  on  a  blade 
of  grass,  a  Praying  Mantis,  a  carnivorous 
insect  which  hides  cannibal  habits  under  a 
pious  appearance.  The  danger  threatened 
by  this  robber  ambushed  on  her  path  must  be 
known  to  the  Sphex,  for  she  lets  go  her  game 
and  pluckily  rushes  upon  the  Mantis,  to  in- 
flict some  heavy  blows  and  dislodge  her,  or 
at  all  events  to  frighten  her  and  inspire  her 
with  respect.  The  robber  does  not  move, 
but  closes  her  lethal  machinery,  the  two  ter- 
rible saws  of  the  arm  and  fore-arm.  The 
189 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

Sphex  goes  back  to  her  capture,  harnesses 
herself  to  the  antennae  and  boldly  passes  un- 
der the  blade  of  grass  whereon  the  other  sits 
perched.  By  the  direction  of  her  head  we 
can  see  that  she  is  on  her  guard  and  that  she 
holds  the  enemy  rooted,  motionless,  under 
the  menace  of  her  eyes.  Her  courage  meets 
with  the  reward  which  it  deserves:  the  prey 
is  stored  away  without  further  mishap. 

A  word  more  on  the  Praying  Mantis,  or, 
as  they  say  in  Provence,  lou  Prego  Dieou,  the 
Pray-to-God.  Her  long,  pale-green  wings, 
like  spreading  veils,  her  head  raised  heaven- 
wards, her  folded  arms,  crossed  upon  her 
breast,  are  in  fact  a  sort  of  travesty  of  a  nun 
in  ecstasy.  And  yet  she  is  a  ferocious  crea- 
ture, loving  carnage.  Though  not  her  fa- 
vourite spots,  the  work-yards  of  the  various 
Digger-wasps  receive  her  visits  pretty  fre- 
quently. Posted  near  the  burrows,  on  some 
bramble  or  other,  she  waits  for  chance  to 
bring  within  her  reach  some  of  the  arrivals, 
forming  a  double  capture  for  her,  as  she 
seizes  both  the  huntress  and  her  prey.  Her 
patience  is  long  put  to  the  test:  the  Wasp 
suspects  something  and  is  on  her  guard;  still, 
from  time  to  time,  a  rash  one  gets  caught. 
With  a  sudden  rustle  of  wings  half-unfurled 
190 


The  Ignorance  of  Instinct 

as  by  the  violent  release  of  a  clutch,  the 
Mantis  terrifies  the  newcomer,  who  hesitates 
for  a  moment,  in  her  fright.  Then,  with  the 
sharpness  of  a  spring,  the  toothed  fore-arm 
folds  back  on  the  toothed  upper  arm ;  and  the 
insect  is  caught  between  the  blades  of  the 
double  saw.  It  is  as  though  the  jaws  of  a 
Wolf-trap  were  closing  on  the  animal  that  had 
nibbled  at  its  bait.  Thereupon,  without  un- 
loosing the  cruel  machine,  the  Mantis  gnaws 
her  victim  by  small  mouthfuls.  Such  are  the 
ecstasies,  the  prayers,  the  mystic  meditations 
of  the  Prego  Dieou. 

Of  the  scenes  of  carnage  which  the  Pray- 
ing Mantis  has  left  in  my  memory,  let  me 
relate  one.  The  thing  happens  in  front  of 
a  work-yard  of  Bee-eating  Philanthi.  These 
diggers  feed  their  larvae  on  Hive-bees,  whom 
they  catch  on  the  flowers  while  gathering  pol- 
len and  honey.  If  the  Philanthus  who  has 
made  a  capture  feels  that  her  Bee  is  swollen 
with  honey,  she  never  fails,  before  storing 
her,  to  squeeze  her  crop,  either  on  the  way 
or  at  the  entrance  of  the  dwelling,  so  as  to 
make  her  disgorge  the  delicious  syrup,  which 
she  drinks  by  licking  the  tongue  which  her 
unfortunate  victim,  in  her  death-agony,  sticks 
out  of  her  mouth  at  full  length.  This  pro- 
191 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

fanation  of  a  dying  creature,  whose  enemy 
squeezes  its  belly  to  empty  it  and  feast  on 
the  contents,  has  something  so  hideous  about 
it  that  I  should  denounce  the  Philanthus  as 
a  brutal  murderess,  if  animals  were  capable 
of  wrongdoing.  At  the  moment  of  some 
such  horrible  banquet,  I  have  seen  the  Wasp, 
with  her  prey,  seized  by  the  Mantis:  the 
bandit  was  rifled  by  another  bandit.  And 
here  is  an  awful  detail:  while  the  Mantis  held 
her  transfixed  under  the  points  of  the  double 
saw  and  was  already  munching  her  belly,  the 
Wasp  continued  to  lick  the  honey  of  her  Bee, 
unable  to  relinquish  the  delicious  food  even 
amid  the  terrors  of  death.  Let  us  hasten  to 
cast  a  veil  over  these  horrors. 

We  will  return  to  the  Sphex,  with  whose 
burrow  we  must  make  ourselves  acquainted 
before  we  go  further.  This  burrow  is  a  hole 
made  in  fine  sand,  or  rather  in  a  sort  of  dust 
at  the  bottom  of  a  natural  shelter.  Its  en- 
trance-passage is  very  short,  merely  an  inch 
or  two,  without  a  bend,  and  leads  to  a  single, 
roomy,  oval  chamber.  The  whole  thing  is  a 
rough  den,  hastily  dug  out,  rather  than  a 
leisurely  and  artistically  excavated  dwelling. 
I  have  explained  that  the  reason  for  this  sim- 
plicity is  that  the  game  is  captured  first  and 
192 


The  Ignorance  of  Instinct 

set  down  for  a  moment  on  the  hunting-field 
while  the  Wasp  hurriedly  makes  a  burrow  in 
the  vicinity,  a  method  of  procedure  which 
allows  of  but  one  chamber  or  cell  to  each  re- 
treat. For  who  can  tell  whither  the  chances 
of  the  day  will  lead  the  huntress  for  her  sec- 
ond capture?  The  prisoner  is  heavy  and  the 
burrow  must  therefore  be  near;  so  to-day's 
home,  which  is  too  far  away  for  the  next 
Ephippiger  to  be  conveyed  to  it,  cannot  be 
utilized  to-morrow.  Thus,  as  each  prey  is 
caught,  there  is  a  fresh  excavation,  a  fresh 
burrow,  with  its  single  chamber,  now  here, 
now  there.  Having  said  this,  we  will  try  a 
few  experiments  to  see  how  the  insect  behaves 
when  we  create  circumstances  new  to  it. 

Experiment  I 

A  Sphex,  dragging  her  prey  along,  is  a  few 
inches  from  the  burrow.  Without  disturb- 
ing her,  I  cut  with  a  pair  of  scissors  the 
Ephippiger's  antennae,  which  the  Wasp,  as 
we  know,  uses  for  harness-ropes.  On  recov- 
ering from  the  surprise  caused  by  the  sudden 
lightening  of  her  load,  the  Sphex  goes  back 
to  her  victim  and,  without  hesitation,  now 
seizes  the  root  of  the  antenna,  the  short 
193 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

stump  left  by  the  scissors.  It  is  very  short 
indeed,  hardly  a  millimetre;1  no  matter:  it 
is  enough  for  the  Sphex,  who  grips  this  fag- 
end  of  a  rope  and  resumes  her  hauling.  With 
the  greatest  precaution,  so  as  not  to  injure 
the  Wasp,  I  now  cut  the  two  antennary 
stumps  level  with  the  skull.  Finding  nothing 
left  to  catch  hold  of  at  the  familiar  points, 
the  insect  seizes,  close  by,  one  of  the  victim's 
long  palpi  and  continues  its  hauling-work, 
without  appearing  at  all  perturbed  by  this 
change  in  the  harness.  I  leave  it  alone. 
The  prey  is  brought  home  and  placed  so  that 
its  head  faces  the  entrance  to  the  burrow; 
and  the  Wasp  goes  in  by  herself,  to  make  a 
brief  inspection  of  the  inside  of  the  cell  be- 
fore proceeding  to  warehouse  the  provisions. 
Her  behaviour  reminds  us  of  that  of  the  Yel- 
low-winged Sphex  in  similar  circumstances. 
I  take  advantage  of  this  short  moment  to 
seize  the  abandoned  prey,  remove  all  its  palpi 
and  place  it  a  little  farther  off,  about  half  a 
yard  from  the  burrow.  The  Sphex  reap- 
pears and  goes  straight  to  her  captive,  whom 
she  has  seen  from  her  threshold.  She  looks 
at  the  top  of  the  head,  she  looks  underneath, 
on  either  side  and  finds  nothing  to  take  hold 

'.039  inch. —  Translator's  Note. 
194 


The  Ignorance  of  Instinct 

of.  A  desperate  attempt  is  made :  the  Wasp, 
opening  wide  her  mandibles,  tries  to  grab  the 
Ephippiger  by  the  head;  but  the  pincers  have 
not  a  sufficient  compass  to  take  in  so  large  a 
bulk  and  they  slip  off  the  round,  polished 
skull.  She  makes  several  fresh  endeavours, 
each  time  without  result.  She  is  at  length 
convinced  of  the  uselessness  of  her  efforts. 
She  draws  back  a  little  to  one  side  and  ap- 
pears to  be  renouncing  further  attempts. 
One  would  say  that  she  was  discouraged;  at 
least,  she  smoothes  her  wings  with  her  hind- 
legs,  while  with  her  front  tarsi,  which  she 
first  puts  into  her  mouth,  she  washes  her  eyes. 
This,  so  it  has  always  seemed  to  me,  is  a  sign 
in  Hymenoptera  of  giving  up  a  job. 

Nevertheless  there  is  no  lack  of  parts  by 
which  the  Ephippiger  might  be  seized  and 
dragged  along  as  easily  as  by  the  antennae 
and  the  palpi.  There  are  the  six  legs,  there 
is  the  ovipositor:  all  organs  slender  enough 
to  be  gripped  boldly  and  to  serve  as  hauling- 
ropes.  I  agree  that  the  easiest  way  to  effect 
the  storing  is  to  introduce  the  prey  head  first, 
drawn  down  by  the  antennae;  but  it  would 
enter  almost  as  readily  if  drawn  by  a  leg, 
especially  one  of  the  front  legs,  for  the  orifice 
is  wide  and  the  passage  short  or  sometimes 
195 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

even  non-existent.  Then  how  is  it  that  the 
Sphex  did  not  once  try  to  seize  one  of  the  six 
tarsi  or  the  tip  of  the  ovipositor,  whereas  she 
attempted  the  impossible,  the  absurd,  in  striv- 
ing to  grip,  with  her  much  too  short  mandi- 
bles, the  huge  skull  of  her  prey?  Can  it  be 
that  the  idea  did  not  occur  to  her?  Then  we 
will  try  to  suggest  it. 

I  offer  her,  right  under  her  mandibles,  first 
a  leg,  next  the  end  of  the  abdominal  rapier. 
The  insect  obstinately  refuses  to  bite;  my  re- 
peated blandishments  lead  to  nothing.  A 
singular  huntress,  to  be  embarrassed  by  her 
game,  not  knowing  how  to  seize  it  by  a  leg 
when  she  is  not  able  to  take  it  by  the  horns  1 
Perhaps  my  prolonged  presence  and  the  un- 
usual events  that  have  just  occurred  have  dis- 
turbed her  faculties.  Then  let  us  leave  the 
Sphex  to  herself,  between  her  Ephippiger  and 
her  burrow;  let  us  give  her  time  to  collect  her- 
self and,  in  the  calm  of  solitude,  to  think 
out  some  way  of  managing  her  business.  I 
leave  her  therefore  and  continue  my  walk; 
and,  two  hours  later,  I  return  to  the  same 
place.  The  Sphex  is  gone,  the  burrow  is  still 
open  and  the  Ephippiger  is  lying  just  where 
I  placed  her.  Conclusion:  the  Wasp  has 
tried  nothing;  she  went  away,  abandoning 
196 


The  Ignorance  of  Instinct 

everything,  her  home  and  her  game,  when,  to 
utilize  them  both,  all  that  she  had  to  do  was 
to  take  her  prey  by  one  leg.  And  so  this 
rival  of  Flourens,  who  but  now  was  startling 
us  with  her  cleverness  as  she  dexterously 
squeezed  her  victim's  brain  to  produce 
lethargy,  becomes  incredibly  helpless  in  the 
simplest  case  outside  her  usual  habits.  She, 
who  so  well  knows  how  to  attack  a  victim's 
thoracic  ganglia  with  her  sting  and  its  cervi- 
cal ganglia  with  her  mandibles;  she,  who 
makes  such  a  judicious  difference  between  a 
poisoned  prick  annihilating  the  vital  influence 
of  the  nerves  for  ever  and  a  pressure  causing 
only  momentary  torpor,  cannot  grip  her  prey 
by  this  part  when  it  is  made  impossible  for 
her  to  grip  it  by  any  other.  To  understand 
that  she  can  take  a  leg  instead  of  an  antenna 
is  utterly  beyond  her  powers.  She  must  have 
the  antenna,  or  some  other  string  attached  to 
the  head,  such  as  one  of  the  palpi.  If  these 
cords  did  not  exist,  her  race  would  perish, 
for  lack  of  the  capacity  to  solve  this  trivial 
problem. 

Experiment  II 

The  Wasp  is  engaged  in  closing  her  bur- 
row, where  the  prey  has  been  stored  and  the 
197 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

egg  laid  upon  it.  With  her  front  tarsi,  she 
brushes  her  doorstep,  working  backwards 
and  sweeping  into  the  entrance  a  stream  of 
dust  which  passes  under  her  belly  and  spurts 
behind  in  a  parabolic  spray  as  continuous  as  a 
liquid  spray,  so  nimble  is  the  sweeper  in  her 
actions.  From  time  to  time,  the  Sphex  picks 
out  with  her  mandibles  a  few  grains  of  sand, 
so  many  solid  blocks  which  she  inserts  one 
by  one  into  the  mass  of  dust,  causing  it  all 
to  cake  together  by  beating  and  compressing 
it  with  her  forehead  and  mandibles.  Walled 
up  by  this  masonry,  the  entrance-door  soon 
disappears  from  sight. 

I  intervene  in  the  middle  of  the  work. 
Pushing  the  Sphex  aside,  I  carefully  clear  the 
short  gallery  with  the  blade  of  a  knife,  take 
away  the  materials  that  close  it  and  restore 
full  communication  between  the  cell  and  the 
outside.  Then,  with  my  forceps,  without 
damaging  the  edifice,  I  take  the  Ephippiger 
from  the  cell,  where  she  lies  with  her  head  at 
the  back  and  her  ovipositor  towards  the  en- 
trance. The  Wasp's  egg  is  on  the  victim's 
breast,  at  the  usual  place,  the  root  of  one  of 
the  hinder  thighs :  a  proof  that  the  Sphex  was 
giving  the  finishing  touch  to  the  burrow,  with 
the  intention  of  never  returning. 
198 


The  Ignorance  of  Instinct 

Having  done  this  and  put  the  stolen  prey 
safely  away  in  a  box,  I  yield  my  place  to  the 
Sphex,  who  has  been  on  the  watch  beside  me 
while  I  was  rifling  her  home.  Finding  the 
door  open,  she  goes  in  and  stays  for  a  few 
moments.  Then  she  comes  out  and  resumes 
her  work  where  I  interrupted  it,  that  is  to 
say,  she  starts  conscientiously  stopping  the 
entrance  to  the  cell  by  sweeping  dust  back- 
wards and  carrying  grains  of  sand,  which  she 
continues  to  heap  up  with  scrupulous  care,  as 
though  she  were  doing  useful  work.  When 
the  door  is  once  again  thoroughly  walled  up, 
the  insect  brushes  itself,  seems  to  give  a 
glance  of  satisfaction  at  the  task  accomplished 
and  finally  flies  away. 

The  Sphex  must  have  known  that  the  bur- 
row contained  nothing,  because  she  went  in- 
side and  even  stayed  there  for  some  time; 
and  yet,  after  this  inspection  of  the  pillaged 
abode,  she  once  more  proceeds  to  close  up 
the  cell  with  the  same  care  as  though  nothing 
out  of  the  way  had  happened.  Can  she  be 
proposing  to  use  this  burrow  later,  to  return 
to  it  with  a  fresh  victim  and  lay  a  new  egg 
there?  If  so,  her  work  of  closing  would  be 
intended  to  prevent  the  access  of  intruders  to 
the  dwelling  during  her  absence ;  it  would  be 
199 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

a  measure  of  prudence  against  the  attempts  of 
other  diggers  who  might  covet  the  ready- 
made  chamber;  it  might  also  be  a  wise  pre- 
caution against  internal  dilapidations.  And, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  some  Hunting  Wasps  do 
take  care  to  protect  the  entrance  to  the  bur- 
row by  closing  it  temporarily,  when  the  work 
has  to  be  suspended  for  a  time.  Thus  I 
have  seen  certain  Ammophilae,  whose  burrow 
is  a  perpendicular  shaft,  block  the  entrance 
to  the  home  with  a  small  flat  stone  when  the 
insect  goes  off  hunting  or  ceases  its  mining- 
operations  at  sunset,  the  hour  for  striking 
work.  But  this  is  a  slight  affair,  a  mere 
slab  laid  over  the  mouth  of  the  shaft.  When 
the  insect  comes,  it  only  takes  a  moment  to 
remove  the  little  flat  stone ;  and  the  entrance 
is  free. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  obstruction  which 
we  have  just  seen  built  by  the  Sphex  is  a  solid 
barrier,  a  stout  piece  of  masonry,  where  dust 
and  gravel  form  alternate  layers  all  the  way 
down  the  passage.  It  is  a  definite  perform- 
ance and  not  a  provisional  defence,  as  is 
proved  by  the  care  with  which  it  is  con- 
structed. Besides,  as  I  think  I  have  shown 
pretty  clearly,  it  is  very  doubtful,  considering 
the  way  in  which  she  acts,  whether  the  Sphex 
200 


The  Ignorance  of  Instinct 

will  ever  return  to  make  use  of  the  home 
which  she  has  prepared.  The  next  Ephip- 
piger  will  be  caught  elsewhere ;  and  the  ware- 
house destined  to  receive  her  will  be  dug 
elsewhere  too.  But  these,  after  all,  are 
only  arguments:  let  us  rather  have  recourse 
to  experiment,  which  is  more  conclusive  here 
than  logic. 

I  allowed  nearly  a  week  to  elapse,  in  order 
to  give  the  Sphex  time  to  return  to  the  bur- 
row which  she  had  so  methodically  closed 
and  to  make  use  of  it  for  her  next  laying  if 
such  were  her  intention.  Events  corre- 
sponded with  the  logical  inferences :  the  bur- 
row was  in  the  condition  wherein  I  left  it, 
still  firmly  closed,  but  without  provisions, 
egg  or  larva.  The  proof  was  decisive:  the 
Wasp  had  not  been  back. 

So  the  plundered  Sphex  enters  her  house, 
makes  a  leisurely  inspection  of  the  empty 
chamber  and,  a  moment  afterwards,  behaves 
as  though  she  had  not  perceived  the  disap- 
pearance of  the  bulky  prey  which  but  now 
filled  the  cell.  Did  she,  in  fact,  fail  to  no- 
tice the  absence  of  the  provisions  and  the 
egg?  Is  she,  who  is  so  clear-sighted  in  her 
murderous  proceedings,  dense  enough  not  to 
realize  that  the  cell  is  empty?  I  dare  not 
201 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

accuse  her  of  such  stupidity.  She  is  aware 
of  it.  But  then  why  that  other  piece  of  stu- 
pidity which  makes  her  close  —  and  very 
conscientiously  close  —  an  empty  burrow, 
one  which  she  does  not  purpose  to  victual 
later?  Here  the  work  of  closing  is  useless, 
is  supremely  absurd;  no  matter:  the  insect 
performs  it  with  the  same  ardour  as  though 
the  larva's  future  depended  on  it.  The  in- 
sect's various  instinctive  actions  are  then 
fatally  linked  together.  Because  one  thing 
has  been  done,  a  second  thing  must  inevitably 
be  done  to  complete  the  first  or  to  prepare 
the  way  for  its  completion;  and  the  two  acts 
depend  so  closely  upon  each  other  that  the 
performing  of  the  first  entails  that  of  the 
second,  even  when,  owing  to  casual  circum- 
stances, the  second  has  become  not  only  inop- 
portune but  sometimes  actually  opposed  to 
the  insect's  interests.  What  object  can  the 
Sphex  have  in  blocking  up  a  burrow  which 
has  become  useless,  now  that  it  no  longer 
contains  the  victim  and  the  egg,  and  which 
will  always  remain  useless,  since  the  insect 
will  not  return  to  it?  The  only  way  to  ex- 
plain this  inconsequent  action  is  to  look  upon 
it  as  the  inevitable  complement  of  the  actions 
that  went  before.  In  the  normal  order  of 
202 


The  Ignorance  of  Instinct 

things,  the  Sphex  hunts  down  her  prey,  lays 
an  egg  and  closes  her  burrow.  The  hunting 
has  been  done;  the  game,  it  is  true,  has  been 
withdrawn  by  me  from  the  cell;  never  mind: 
the  hunting  has  been  done,  the  egg  has  been 
laid;  and  now  comes  the  business  of  closing 
up  the  home.  This  is  what  the  insect  does, 
without  another  thought,  without  in  the  least 
suspecting  the  futility  of  her  present  labours. 

Experiment  III 

To  know  everything  and  to  know  nothing, 
according  as  it  acts  under  normal  or  excep- 
tional conditions:  that  is  the  strange  anti- 
thesis presented  by  the  insect  race.  Other 
examples,  also  drawn  from  the  Sphex  tribe, 
will  confirm  this  conclusion.  The  White- 
edged  Sphex  (S.  albisecta)  attacks  medium- 
sized  Locusts,  whereof  the  different  species 
to  be  found  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
burrow  all  furnish  her  with  their  tribute 
of  victims.  Because  of  the  abundance  of 
these  Acridians,  there  is  no  need  to  go  hunting 
far  afield.  When  the  burrow,  which  takes 
the  form  of  a  perpendicular  shaft,  is  ready, 
the  Sphex  merely  explores  the  purlieus  of 
her  lair,  within  a  small  radius,  and  is  not  long 

2CU 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

in  finding  some  Locust  browsing  in  the  sun- 
shine. To  pounce  upon  her  and  sting  her, 
despite  her  kicking,  is  to  the  Sphex  the  mat- 
ter of  a  moment.  After  some  fluttering  of 
its  wings,  which  unfurl  their  carmine  or  azure 
fan,  after  some  drowsy  stretching  of  its  legs, 
the  victim  ceases  to  move.  It  has  now  to  be 
brought  home,  on  foot.  For  this  laborious 
operation,  the  Sphex  employs  the  same 
method  as  her  kinswomen,  that  is  to  say,  she 
drags  her  prize  along  between  her  legs,  hold- 
ing one  of  its  antennae  in  her  mandibles.  If 
she  encounters  some  grassy  jungle,  she  goes 
hopping  and  flitting  from  blade  to  blade, 
without  ever  letting  slip  her  prey.  When  at 
last  she  comes  within  a  few  feet  of  her  dwell- 
ing, she  performs  a  manoeuvre  which  is  also 
practised  by  the  Languedocian  Sphex;  but  she 
does  not  attach  as  much  importance  to  it,  for 
she  frequently  neglects  it.  Leaving  her  cap- 
tive on  the  road,  the  Wasp  hurries  home, 
though  no  apparent  danger  threatens  her 
abode,  and  puts  her  head  through  the  en- 
trance several  times,  even  going  part  of  the 
way  down  the  burrow.  She  next  returns  to 
the  Locust  and,  after  bringing  her  nearer  the 
goal,  leaves  her  a  second  time  to  revisit  the 
burrow.  This  performance  is  repeated  over 
204 


The  Ignorance  of  Instinct 

and  over  again,  always  with  the  same  anxious 
haste. 

These  visits  are  sometimes  followed  by 
grievous  accidents.  The  victim,  rashly  aban- 
doned on  hilly  ground,  rolls  to  the  bottom 
of  the  slope;  and  the  Sphex  on  her  re- 
turn, no  longer  finding  it  where  she  left  it, 
is  obliged  to  seek  for  it,  sometimes  fruit- 
lessly. If  she  find  it,  she  must  renew  a  toil- 
some climb,  which  does  not  prevent  her  from 
once  more  abandoning  her  booty  on  the 
same  unlucky  declivity.  Of  these  repeated 
visits  to  the  mouth  of  the  shaft,  the  first  can 
be  very  logically  explained.  The  Wasp,  be- 
fore arriving  with  her  heavy  burden,  enquires 
whether  the  entrance  to  the  home  be  really 
clear,  whether  nothing  will  hinder  her  from 
bringing  in  her  game.  But,  once  this  first 
reconnaissance  is  made,  what  can  be  the  use 
of  the  rest,  following  one  after  the  other,  at 
close  intervals?  Is  the  Sphex  so  volatile  in 
her  ideas  that  she  forgets  the  visit  which  she 
has  just  paid  and  runs  afresh  to  the  burrow 
a  moment  later,  only  to  forget  this  new  in- 
spection also  and  to  start  doing  the  same 
thing  over  and  over  again?  That  would  be 
a  memory  with  very  fleeting  recollections, 
whence  the  impression  vanished  almost  as 
205 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

soon  as  it  was  produced.     Let  us  not  linger 
too  long  on  this  obscure  point. 

At  last  the  game  is  brought  to  the  brink  of 
the  shaft,  with  its  antennae  hanging  down  the 
hole.  We  now  again  see,  faithfully  imitated, 
the  method  employed  in  the  like  case  by  the 
Yellow-winged  Sphex  and  also,  but  under 
less  striking  conditions,  by  the  Languedocian 
Sphex.  The  Wasp  enters  alone,  inspects  the 
interior,  reappears  at  the  entrance,  lays  hold 
of  the  antennae  and  drags  the  Locust  down. 
While  the  Locust-huntress  was  making  her 
examination  of  the  home,  I  have  pushed  her 
prize  a  little  farther  back;  and  I  obtained 
results  similar  in  all  respects  to  those  which 
the  Cricket-huntress  gave  me.  Each  Sphex 
displays  the  same  obstinacy  in  diving  down 
her  burrow  before  dragging  in  the  prey.  Let 
us  recall  here  that  the  Yellow-winged  Sphex 
does  not  always  allow  herself  to  be  caught 
by  this  trick  of  pulling  away  her  Cricket. 
There  are  picked  tribes,  strong-minded  fam- 
ilies which,  after  a  few  disappointments,  see 
through  the  experimenter's  wiles  and  know 
how  to  baffle  them.  But  these  revolution- 
aries, fit  subjects  for  progress,  are  the  mi- 
nority; the  remainder,  mulish  conservatives 
clinging  to  the  old  manners  and  customs,  are 
206 


The  Ignorance  of  Instinct 

the  majority,  the  crowd.  I  am  unable  to 
say  whether  the  Locust-huntress  also  varies 
in  ingenuity  according  to  the  district  which 
she  hails  from. 

But  here  is  something  more  remarkable; 
and  it  is  this  with  which  I  wanted  to  conclude 
the  present  experiment.  After  repeatedly 
withdrawing  the  White-edged  Sphex'  prize 
from  the  mouth  of  the  pit  and  compelling  her 
to  come  and  fetch  it  again,  I  take  advantage 
of  her  descent  to  the  bottom  of  the  shaft  to 
seize  the  prey  and  put  it  in  a  place  of  safety 
where  she  cannot  find  it.  The  Sphex  comes 
up,  looks  about  for  a  long  time  and,  when  she 
is  convinced  that  the  prey  is  really  lost,  goes 
down  into  her  home  again.  A  few  moments 
after,  she  reappears.  Is  it  with  the  inten- 
tion of  resuming  the  chase?  Not  the  least 
in  the  world :  the  Sphex  begins  to  stop  up  the 
burrow.  And  what  we  see  is  not  a  tempo- 
rary closing,  effected  with  a  small  flat  stone, 
a  slab  covering  the  mouth  of  the  well;  it  is  a 
final  closing,  carefully  done  with  dust  and 
gravel  swept  into  the  passage  until  it  is  filled 
up.  The  White-edged  Sphex  makes  only 
one  cell  at  the  bottom  of  her  shaft  and  puts 
one  head  of  game  into  this  cell.  That  single 
Locust  has  been  caught  and  dragged  to  the 
207 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

edge  of  the  hole.  If  she  was  not  stored 
away,  it  was  not  the  huntress'  fault,  but 
mine.  The  Wasp  performed  her  task  ac- 
cording to  the  inflexible  rule;  and,  also  ac- 
cording to  the  inflexible  rule,  she  completes 
her  work  by  stopping  up  the  dwelling,  empty 
though  it  be.  We  have  here  an  exact  repeti- 
tion of  the  useless  exertions  made  by  the 
Languedocian  Sphex  whose  home  has  just 
been  plundered. 

Experiment  IV 

It  is  almost  impossible  to  make  certain 
whether  the  Yellow-winged  Sphex,  who  con- 
structs several  cells  at  the  end  of  the  same 
passage  and  stacks  several  Crickets  in  each, 
is  equally  illogical  when  accidentally  dis- 
turbed in  her  proceedings.  A  cell  can  be 
closed  though  empty  or  imperfectly  victualled 
and  the  Wasp  will  none  the  less  continue  to 
come  to  the  same  burrow  in  order  to  work  at 
the  others.  Nevertheless,  I  have  reason  to 
believe  that  this  Sphex  is  subject  to  the  same 
aberrations  as  her  two  kinswomen.  My  con- 
viction is  based  on  the  following  facts:  the 
number  of  Crickets  found  in  the  cells,  when 
all  the  work  is  done,  is  usually  four  to  each 
208 


The  Ignorance  of  Instinct 

cell,  although  it  is  not  uncommon  to  find 
only  three,  or  even  two.  Four  appears  to 
me  to  be  the  normal  number,  first,  because 
it  is  the  most  frequent  and,  secondly,  because, 
when  rearing  young  larvae  dug  up  while  they 
were  still  engaged  on  their  first  joint,  I  found 
that  all  of  them,  those  actually  provided  with 
only  two  or  three  pieces  of  game  as  well  as 
those  which  had  four,  easily  managed  the 
various  Crickets  wherewith  I  served  them 
one  by  one,  up  to  and  including  the  fourth, 
but  that  after  this  they  refused  all  nourish- 
ment, or  barely  touched  the  fifth  ration.  If 
four  Crickets  are  necessary  to  the  larva  to 
acquire  the  full  development  called  for  by  its 
organization,  why  are  sometimes  only  three, 
sometimes  only  two  provided  for  it?  Why 
this  enormous  difference  in  the  quantity  of 
the  victuals,  some  larvae  having  twice  as  much 
as  the  others?  It  cannot  be  because  of  any 
difference  in  the  size  of  the  dishes  provided 
to  satisfy  the  grub's  appetite,  for  all  have 
very  much  the  same  dimensions;  and  it  can 
therefore  be  due  only  to  the  wastage  of  game 
on  the  way.  We  find,  in  fact,  at  the  foot  of 
the  banks  whose  upper  stages  are  occupied 
by  the  Sphex-wasps,  Crickets  that  have  been 
paralysed  but  lost,  owing  to  the  slope  of  the 
209 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

ground,  down  which  they  have  slipped  when 
the  huntresses  have  momentarily  left  them, 
for  some  reason  or  other.  These  Crickets 
fall  a  prey  to  the  Ants  and  Flies;  and  the 
Sphex-wasps  who  come  across  them  take 
good  care  not  to  pick  them  up,  for,  if  they 
did,  they  would  themselves  be  admitting  ene- 
mies into  the  house. 

These  facts  seem  to  me  to  prove  that, 
while  the  Yellow-winged  Sphex'  arithmetical 
powers  enable  her  to  calculate  exactly  how 
many  victims  to  capture,  she  cannot  achieve 
a  census  of  those  which  have  safely  reached 
their  destination.  It  is  as  though  the  insect 
had  no  mathematical  guide  beyond  an  irre- 
sistible impulse  that  prompts  her  to  hunt  for 
game  a  definite  number  of  times.  When  the 
Sphex  has  made  the  requisite  number  of  jour- 
neys, when  she  has  done  her  utmost  to  store 
the  captures  that  result  from  these,  her  work 
is  ended;  and  she  closes  the  cell  whether  com- 
pletely or  incompletely  provisioned.  Na- 
ture has  endowed  her  with  only  those  facul- 
ties called  for  in  ordinary  circumstances  by 
the  interests  of  her  larvae;  and,  as  these  blind 
faculties,  which  cannot  be  modified  by  ex- 
perience, are  sufficient  for  the  preservation 
210 


The  Ignorance  of  Instinct 

of  the  race,  the  insect  is  unable  to  go  beyond 
them. 

I  conclude  therefore  as  I  began:  instinct 
knows  everything,  in  the  undeviating  paths 
marked  out  for  it;  it  knows  nothing,  outside 
those  paths.  The  sublime  inspirations  of 
science  and  the  astounding  inconsistencies  of 
stupidity  are  both  its  portion,  according  as 
the  insect  acts  under  normal  or  accidental 
conditions. 


211 


CHAPTER  XI 

AN  ASCENT  OF   MONT  VENTOUX 

THANKS  to  its  isolated  position,  which 
leaves  it  freely  exposed  on  every  side 
to  atmospheric  influence;  thanks  also  to  its 
height,  which  makes  it  the  topmost  point  of 
France  within  the  frontiers  of  either  the  Alps 
or  Pyrenees,  our  bare  Provencal  mountain, 
Mont  Ventoux,  lends  itself  remarkably  well 
to  the  study  of  the  climatic  distribution  of 
plants.  At  its  base  the  tender  olive  thrives, 
with  all  that  multitude  of  semiligneous  plants, 
such  as  the  thyme,  whose  aromatic  fragrance 
calls  for  the  sun  of  the  Mediterranean  re- 
gions; on  the  summit,  mantled  with  snow  for 
at  least  half  the  year,  the  ground  is  covered 
with  a  northern  flora,  borrowed  to  some  ex- 
tent from  arctic  shores.  Half  a  day's  jour- 
ney in  an  upward  direction  brings  before  our 
eyes  a  succession  of  the  chief  vegetable  types 
which  we  should  find  in  the  course  of  a  long 
voyage  from  south  to  north  along  the  same 
meridian.  At  the  start,  your  feet  tread  the 
scented  tufts  of  the  thyme  that  forms  a  con- 

212 


An  Ascent  of  Mont  Ventoux 

tinuous  carpet  on  the  lower  slopes;  in  a  few 
hours,  they  will  be  treading  the  dark  hassocks 
of  the  opposite-leaved  saxifrage,  the  first 
plant  to  greet  the  botanist  who  lands  on  the 
coast  of  Spitzbergen  in  July.  Below,  in  the 
hedges,  you  have  picked  the  scarlet  flowers 
of  the  pomegranate,  a  lover  of  African  skies; 
above  you  will  pick  a  shaggy  little  poppy, 
which  shelters  its  stalks  under  a  coverlet  of 
tiny  fragments  of  stone  and  unfolds  its 
spreading  yellow  corolla  as  readily  in  the  icy 
solitudes  of  Greenland  and  the  North  Cape 
as  on  the  upper  slopes  of  the  Ventoux. 

These  contrasts  have  always  something 
fresh  and  stimulating  about  them;  and,  after 
twenty-five  ascents,  they  still  retain  their  in- 
terest for  me.  I  made  my  twenty-third  in 
August  1865.  There  were  eight  of  us: 
three  whose  chief  object  was  to  botanize  and 
five  attracted  by  a  mountain  expedition  and 
the  panorama  of  the  heights.  Not  one  of 
our  five  companions  who  were  not  interested 
in  the  study  of  plants  has  since  expressed  a 
desire  to  accompany  me  a  second  time.  The 
fact  is  that  the  climb  is  a  hard  and  tiring  one ; 
and  the  sight  of  a  sunrise  does  not  make  up 
for  the  fatigue  endured. 

One  might  best  compare  the  Ventoux  with 
213 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

a  heap  of  stones  broken  up  for  road-mending 
purposes.  Raise  this  heap  suddenly  to  a 
height  of  a  mile  and  a  quarter,  increase  its 
base  in  proportion,  cover  the  white  of  the 
limestone  with  the  black  patch  of  the  forests 
and  you  have  a  clear  idea  of  the  general  as- 
pect of  the  mountain.  This  accumulation  of 
rubbish  —  sometimes  small  chips,  sometimes 
huge  blocks  —  rises  from  the  plain  without 
preliminary  slopes  or  successive  terraces 
that  would  render  the  ascent  less  arduous  by 
dividing  it  into  stages.  The  climb  begins  at 
once  by  rocky  paths,  the  best  of  which  is 
worse  than  the  surface  of  a  road  newly 
strewn  with  stones,  and  continues,  becoming 
ever  rougher  and  rougher,  right  to  the  sum- 
mit, the  height  of  which  is  6,270  feet. 
Greenswards,  babbling  brooks,  the  spacious 
shade  of  venerable  trees,  all  the  things,  in 
short,  that  lend  such  charm  to  other  mount- 
ains are  here  unknown  and  are  replaced  by 
an  interminable  bed  of  limestone  broken  into 
scales,  which  slip  under  our  feet  with  a  sharp, 
almost  metallic  "  click."  By  way  of  cas- 
cades the  Ventoux  has  rills  of  stones;  the 
rattle  of  falling  rocks  takes  the  place  of  the 
whispering  waters. 

We   are   at  Bedoin,   at  the   foot  of  the 
214 


An  Ascent  of  Mont  Ventoux 

mountain.  The  arrangements  with  the 
guide  have  been  made,  the  hour  of  the  start 
fixed;  the  provisions  are  being  talked  over 
and  got  ready.  Let  us  try  to  rest,  for  we 
shall  have  to  spend  a  sleepless  night  on  the 
mountain  to-morrow.  But  sleeping  is  just 
the  difficulty;  I  have  never  managed  it  and 
that  is  where  the  chief  cause  of  fatigue 
lies.  I  would  therefore  advise  those  of  my 
readers  who  think  of  making  a  botanizing 
ascent  of  the  Ventoux  not  to  arrive  at  Be- 
doin  on  a  Sunday  evening.  They  will  thus 
avoid  the  noisy  bustle  of  an  inn  with  a  cafe 
attached  to  it,  those  endless  loud-voiced  con- 
versations, those  echoing  cannons  of  the  bil- 
liard-balls, the  ringing  of  glasses,  the  drink- 
ing-songs, the  ditties  of  nocturnal  wayfarers, 
the  bellowing  of  the  brass  band  at  the  ball 
hard  by  and  the  other  tribulations  inse- 
parable from  this  blessed  day  of  idleness  and 
jollification.  Will  they  obtain  a  better  rest 
on  a  week-day?  I  hope  so,  but  I  do  not 
guarantee  it.  For  my  part,  I  did  not  close 
an  eye.  All  night  long,  the  rusty  spit,  work- 
ing to  provide  us  with  food,  creaked  and 
groaned  under  my  bedroom.  A  thin  board 
was  all  that  separated  me  from  that  machine 
of  the  devil. 

215 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

But  already  the  sky  is  growing  light.  A 
donkey  brays  beneath  the  windows.  It  is 
time  to  get  up.  We  might  as  well  not  have 
gone  to  bed.  Foodstuffs  and  baggage  are 
strapped  on;  and,  with  a  " Jal  Hi!"  from 
the  guide,  we  are  off.  It  is  four  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  At  the  head  of  the  caravan 
walks  Triboulet,  with  his  Mule  and  his  Ass : 
Triboulet,  the  Nestor  of  the  Ventoux  guides. 
My  botanical  colleagues  inspect  the  vegeta- 
tion on  either  side  of  the  road  by  the  cold 
light  of  the  dawn;  the  others  talk.  I  follow 
the  party  with  a  barometer  slung  from  my 
shoulder  and  a  note-book  and  pencil  in  my 
hand. 

My  barometer,  intended  for  taking  the 
altitude  of  the  principal  botanical  halts,  soon 
becomes  a  pretext  for  attacks  on  the  gourd 
with  the  rum.  No  sooner  is  a  noteworthy 
plant  observed  than  somebody  cries : 

"  Quick,  let's  look  at  the  barometer  I  " 

And  we  all  crowd  around  the  gourd,  the 
scientific  instrument  coming  later.  The  cool- 
ness of  the  morning  and  our  walk  make  us 
appreciate  these  references  to  the  baro- 
meter so  thoroughly  that  the  level  of  the 
stimulant  falls  even  more  swiftly  than  that 
of  the  mercury.  In  the  interests  of  the  im- 
216 


An  Ascent  of  Mont  Ventoux 

mediate  future,  I  must  consult  Torricelli's 
tube  a  little  less  often. 

As  the  temperature  grows  too  cold  for 
them,  first  the  oak  and  the  ilex  disappear  by 
degrees;  then  the  vine  and  the  almond-tree; 
and  next  the  mulberry,  the  walnut-tree  and 
the  white  oak.  Box  becomes  plentiful. 
We  enter  upon  a  monotonous  region  extend- 
ing from  the  end  of  the  cultivated  fields  to 
the  lower  boundary  of  the  beech-woods, 
where  the  predominant  plant  is  Satureia  mon- 
tana,  the  winter  savory,  known  here  by  its 
popular  name  of  pebre  d'ase,  Ass's  pepper, 
because  of  the  acrid  flavour  of  its  tiny  leaves, 
impregnated  with  essential  oil.  Certain 
small  cheeses  forming  part  of  our  stores  are 
powdered  with  this  strong  spice.  Already 
more  than  one  of  us  is  biting  into  them  in 
imagination  and  casting  hungry  glances  at 
the  provision-bags  carried  by  the  Mule.  Our 
hard  morning  exercise  has  brought  appetite 
and  more  than  appetite,  a  devouring  hunger, 
what  Horace  calls  latrans  stomachus.  I 
teach  my  colleagues  how  to  stay  this  rum- 
bling stomach  until  they  reach  the  next  halt; 
I  show  them  a  little  sorrel-plant,  with  arrow- 
head leaves,  the  Rumex  scutatus,  or  French 
sorrel;  and,  practising  what  I  preach,  I  pick 
217 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

a  mouthful.  At  first  they  laugh  at  my  sug- 
gestion. I  let  them  laugh  and  soon  see  them 
all  occupied,  each  more  eagerly  than  his  fel- 
low, in  plucking  the  precious  sorrel. 

While  chewing  the  bitter  leaves,  we  come 
to  the  beeches.  These  are  first  big,  solitary 
bushes,  trailing  on  the  ground;  soon  after, 
dwarf  trees,  clustering  close  together;  and, 
finally,  mighty  trunks,  forming  a  dense  and 
gloomy  forest,  whose  soil  is  a  mass  of  rough 
limestone  blocks.  Bowed  down  in  winter  by 
the  weight  of  the  snow,  battered  all  the  year 
round  by  the  fierce  gusts  of  the  mistral,  many 
of  the  trees  have  lost  their  branches  and  are 
twisted  into  grotesque  positions,  or  even  lie 
flat  on  the  ground.  An  hour  or  more  is 
spent  in  crossing  this  wooded  zone,  which 
from  a  distance  shows  against  the  sides  of 
the  Ventoux  like  a  black  belt.  Then  once 
more  the  beeches  become  bushy  and  scat- 
tered. We  have  reached  their  upper  bound- 
ary and,  to  the  great  relief  of  all  of  us, 
despite  the  sorrel-leaves,  we  have  also 
reached  the  stopping-place  selected  for  our 
lunch. 

We  are  at  the  source  of  the  Grave,  a 
slender  stream  of  water  caught,  as  it  bubbles 
from  the  ground,  in  a  series  of  long  beech- 
218 


An  Ascent  of  Mont  Ventoux 

trunk  troughs,  where  the  mountain  shepherds 
come  to  water  their  flocks.  The  temperature 
of  the  spring  is  45  °F.;  and  its  coolness  is  a 
priceless  boon  for  us  who  have  come  from 
the  sultry  oven  of  the  plain.  The  cloth  is 
spread  on  a  charming  carpet  of  Alpine  plants, 
with  glittering  among  them  the  thyme-leaved 
paronychia,  whose  wide,  thin  bracts  look  like 
silver  scales.  The  food  is  taken  out  of  the 
bags,  the  bottles  extracted  from  their  bed  of 
hay.  On  this  side  are  the  joints,  the  legs  of 
mutton  stuffed  with  garlic,  the  stacks  of 
loaves ;  on  that,  the  tasteless  chickens,  for  our 
grinders  to  toy  with  presently,  when  the  edge 
has  been  taken  off  our  appetite.  At  no  great 
distance,  set  in  a  place  of  honour,  are  the 
Ventoux  cheeses  spiced  with  winter  savory, 
the  little  pebre  d'ase  cheeses,  flanked  by 
Aries  sausages,  whose  pink  flesh  is  mottled 
with  cubes  of  bacon  and  whole  pepper-corns. 
Over  here,  in  this  corner,  are  green  olives  still 
dripping  with  brine  and  black  olives  soaking 
in  oil;  in  that  other,  Cavaillon  melons,  some 
white,  some  orange,  to  suit  every  taste ;  and, 
down  there,  a  jar  of  anchovies  which  make 
you  drink  hard  and  so  keep  your  strength  up. 
Lastly,  the  bottles  are  cooling  in  the  ice-cold 
water  of  the  trough  over  there.  Have  we 
219 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

forgotten  anything?  Yes,  we  have  not  men- 
tioned the  crowning  side-dish,  the  onions,  to 
be  eaten  raw  with  salt.  Our  two  Parisians 
—  for  we  have  two  among  us,  my  fellow-bota- 
nists —  are  at  first  a  little  startled  by  this 
very  invigorating  bill  of  fare;  soon  they  will 
be  the  first  to  burst  into  praises.  Are  we  all 
ready?  Then  let  us  sit  down. 

And  now  begins  one  of  those  Homeric 
repasts  which  mark  red-letter  days  in  one's 
life.  The  first  mouthfuls  are  almost 
frenzied.  Slices  of  mutton  and  chunks  of 
bread  follow  one  another  with  alarming 
rapidity.  Each  of  us,  without  communicat- 
ing his  apprehensions  to  the  others,  casts  an 
anxious  glance  at  the  victuals  and  asks  him- 
self: 

"  If  this  is  the  way  we  are  going  on,  shall 
we  have  enough  for  to-night  and  to-mor- 
row? " 

However,  the  craving  is  allayed;  we  began 
by  devouring  in  silence,  we  now  eat  and  talk. 
Our  apprehensions  for  the  morrow  are  like- 
wise relieved;  and  we  give  due  credit  to  the 
man  who  ordered  the  menu,  who  foresaw 
this  hunger-fit  and  who  arranged  to  cope  with 
it  worthily.  The  time  has  come  for  us  to 
appreciate  the  victuals  as  connoisseurs.  One 
220 


An  Ascent  of  Mont  Ventoux 

praises  the  olives,  stabbing  them  one  by  one 
with  the  point  of  his  knife;  another  lauds  the 
anchovies  as  he  cuts  up  the  little  ochre-col- 
oured fishes  on  his  bread;  a  third  waxes  en- 
thusiastic about  the  sausage ;  and  all  with  one 
accord  extol  the  pebre  d'ase  cheeses,  no 
larger  than  the  palm  of  a  man's  hand. 
Pipes  and  cigars  are  lit;  and  we  stretch  our- 
selves on  our  backs  in  the  grass,  with  the  sun 
shining  down  upon  us. 

An  hour's  rest  and  we  are  off  again,  for 
time  presses.  The  guide  with  the  baggage 
will  go  alone,  towards  the  west,  skirting  the 
edge  of  the  woods,  which  has  a  Mule-path. 
He  will  wait  for  us  at  the  Jas,  or  Batiment, 
on  the  upper  boundary  of  the  beeches,  some 
5,000  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  The 
Jas  is  a  large  stone  hut,  which  is  to  shelter  us, 
man  and  beast,  to-night.  As  for  us,  we  con- 
tinue the  ascent  to  the  ridge,  by  following 
which  we  shall  reach  the  highest  peak  more 
easily.  From  the  top,  after  sunset,  we  shall 
go  down  to  the  Jas,  where  the  guide  will  have 
arrived  long  before  us.  This  is  the  plan  pro- 
posed and  adopted. 

We  reach  the  crested  ridge.  On  the 
south,  the  comparatively  easy  slopes  which 
we  have  just  climbed  stretch  as  far  as  the  eye 
221 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

can  see;  on  the  north,  the  scene  is  full  of  wild 
grandeur:  the  mountain,  sometimes  hewn 
perpendicularly,  sometimes  carved  into  rough 
steps,  alarmingly  steep,  is  little  else  than  a 
sheer  precipice  a  mile  high.  If  you  throw  a 
stone,  it  never  stops,  but  falls  from  rock  to 
rock  until  it  reaches  the  bottom  of  the  valley, 
where  you  can  distinguish  the  bed  of  the 
Toulourenc  looking  like  a  ribbon.  While 
my  companions  loosen  masses  of  rock  and 
send  them  rolling  into  the  abyss  so  that  they 
may  watch  the  frightful  fall,  I  discover  under 
a  broad  flat  stone  one  of  my  old  insect  ac- 
quaintances, the  Hairy  Ammophila,  whom  I 
had  always  met  by  herself  on  the  road-side 
banks  in  the  plain,  whereas  here,  almost  at 
the  top  of  the  Ventoux,  I  find  her  to  the  num- 
ber of  several  hundreds  heaped  up  under  one 
and  the  same  shelter. 

I  was  beginning  to  investigate  the  reasons 
for  this  agglomeration,  when  the  southerly 
breeze,  which  already  during  the  morning 
had  inspired  us  with  a  few  vague  fears,  sud- 
denly brought  up  a  cohort  of  clouds  which 
melted  into  rain.  Before  we  knew  it,  we 
were  shrouded  in  a  thick,  drizzling  mist, 
which  prevented  us  from  seeing  two  yards  in 
front  of  us.  By  an  unfortunate  coincidence, 
222 


An  Ascent  of  Mont  Ventoux 

one  of  us,  my  good  friend  Delacour,  had 
strayed  aside  in  search  of  Euphorbia  saxitalis, 
one  of  the  botanical  curiosities  of  these 
heights.  Making  a  speaking-trumpet  of 
our  hands,  we  shouted  as  one  man.  No 
answer  came.  Our  voices  were  lost  in  the 
flaky  thickness  and  the  dull  sound  of  the 
whirling  mist.  As  the  wanderer  could  not 
hear  us,  we  had  to  look  for  him.  In  the 
darkness  it  was  impossible  to  see  one 
another  at  a  distance  of  two  or  three  yards; 
and  I  was  the  only  one  of  the  seven  to  know 
the  locality.  So  that  nobody  might  be  left 
in  the  lurch,  we  took  hands  and  I  placed  my- 
self at  the  head  of  the  chain.  For  some 
minutes  we  played  a  regular  game  of  blind- 
man's  buff,  leading  to  nothing.  No  doubt, 
on  seeing  the  clouds  drift  up,  Delacour,  who 
knew  the  Ventoux,  had  taken  advantage  of 
the  last  gleams  of  light  to  hasten  to  the 
shelter  of  the  Jas.  We  resolved  to  make 
for  it  ourselves  as  quickly  as  possible,  for 
already  our  clothes  were  streaming  with  rain 
inside  as  well  as  out.  Our  white-duck 
trousers  were  sticking  to  us  like  a  second 
skin. 

A   serious   difficulty   arose:   the   hurrying 
backwards  and  forwards,  the  twisting  and 
223 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

turning,  while  we  looked  about  us,  had  re- 
duced me  to  the  plight  of  a  person  whose  eyes 
are  bandaged  and  who  is  then  made  to  spin 
round  on  his  heels.  I  had  lost  all  sense  of 
direction;  I  had  not  the  least  idea  which  was 
the  southern  slope.  I  questioned  this  man 
and  that;  opinions  were  divided  and  most  un- 
certain. The  upshot  was  that  not  one  of  us 
could  say  where  the  north  lay  and  where  the 
south.  Never  in  all  my  life  had  I  realized 
the  value  of  the  points  of  the  compass  as  I 
did  at  that  moment.  All  around  us  was  the 
mystery  of  the  grey  haze ;  beneath  our  feet 
we  could  just  make  out  the  beginning  of  a 
slope  here  and  a  slope  there.  But  which  was 
the  right  one?  We  had  to  make  a  choice 
and  to  launch  out  boldly.  If,  by  bad  luck, 
we  went  down  the  northern  slope,  we  risked 
breaking  our  bones  over  the  precipices  the 
sight  of  which  had  but  now  filled  us  with 
dread.  Perhaps  not  one  of  us  would  survive 
it.  I  passed  a  few  minutes  of  acute  perplex- 
ity. 

"  Let's  stay  here,"  said  the  majority,  "  and 
wait  till  the  rain  stops." 

"  That's  bad  advice,"  replied  the  others,  of 
whom  I  was  one,  "  that's  bad  advice :  the 
rain  may  last  a  long  while;  and,  wet  through 
224 


An  Ascent  of  Mont  Ventoux 

as  we  are,  we  shall  freeze  on  the  spot  at  the 
first  chill  of  night." 

My  worthy  friend  Bernard  Verlot,  who 
had  come  from  the  Paris  Jardin  des  Plantes 
on  purpose  to  climb  the  Ventoux  in  my  com- 
pany, displayed  an  imperturbable  calmness, 
trusting  to  my  good  sense  to  get  us  out  of  our 
scrape.  I  drew  him  a  little  to  one  side,  in 
order  not  to  increase  the  panic  of  the  others, 
and  revealed  my  terrible  fears  to  him.  We 
held  a  council  of  two  and  tried  to  make  up  by 
the  compass  of  reasoning  for  the  absence  of 
the  magnetic  needle. 

"  When  the  clouds  came,"  I  asked  him, 
"  wasn't  it  from  the  south?  " 

"  From  the  south,  certainly." 

"  And,  though  one  could  hardly  perceive 
the  wind,  the  rain  slanted  slightly  from 
south  to  north?  " 

"  Yes,  I  noticed  that  as  long  as  I  could  see 
anything.  Isn't  that  enough  to  tell  us  the 
way?  Let  us  go  down  on  the  side  from 
which  the  rain  comes." 

"  I  thought  of  that,  but  I  have  my  doubts. 
The  wind  is  not  strong  enough  to  have  a 
definite  direction.  It  may  be  an  eddying 
breeze,  as  happens  on  a  mountain-top  sur- 
rounded by  clouds.  There  is  nothing  to  tell 
225 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

me  that  the  direction  is  still  the  same  and  that 
the  wind  is  not  now  blowing  from  the  north." 

"  I  have  my  doubts  also.  Then  what  shall 
we  do?" 

"What  shall  we  do?  That's  the  diffi- 
culty! But  look  here:  if  the  wind  has  not 
changed,  we  ought  to  be  wetter  on  the  left, 
because  we  got  the  rain  on  that  side  until 
we  lost  our  bearings.  If  it  has  changed,  we 
must  be  more  or  less  equally  wet  all  over. 
Let  us  feel  ourselves  and  decide.  Will  that 
do?" 

11  Yes." 

"  And  suppose  I'm  wrong?  " 

"  You're  not  wrong." 

The  matter  was  explained  to  our  compan- 
ions in  a  few  words.  All  felt  themselves, 
not  outside,  which  would  not  have  been 
enough,  but  right  inside  their  underclothing, 
and  it  was  with  unspeakable  relief  that  I 
heard  them  unanimously  declare  their  left 
side  to  be  much  wetter  than  the  right.  The 
wind  had  not  changed.  All  was  well;  and 
we  determined  to  go  towards  the  rain.  The 
chain  was  formed  once  more,  with  myself  at 
the  head  and  Verlot  in  the  rear,  so  as  to  leave 
no  stragglers  behind.  Before  starting,  I 
asked  my  friend,  for  the  last  time : 
226 


An  Ascent  of  Mont  Ventoux 

"Well,  shall  we  risk  it?" 
"  Yes,  let's  risk  it;  I'll  follow  you." 
And   we    plunged   blindly    into   the    for- 
midable unknown. 

We  had  not  taken  twenty  strides,  twenty 
of  those  strides  which  one  is  not  able  to  con- 
trol on  a  steep  slope,  before  all  fear  of 
danger  was  over.  Under  our  feet  was  not 
the  empty  space  of  the  abyss  but  the  longed* 
for  ground,  the  ground  covered  with  small 
stones,  which  rolled  down  in  long  torrents. 
To  all  of  us,  this  rattling  sound,  denoting  a 
firm  footing,  was  heavenly  music.  In  a  few 
minutes  we  reached  the  upper  edge  of  the 
beeches.  Here  the  darkness  was  even 
greater  than  at  the  top  of  the  mountain:  we 
had  to  stoop  to  the  ground  to  see  where  we 
were  walking.  How,  in  the  gloom,  were  we 
to  find  the  Jas,  buried  away  in  the  dense 
wood?  Two  plants,  the  assiduous  haunters 
of  places  frequented  by  man  —  the  Cheno- 
podium  bonus-Henricus,  or  good-king-Henry, 
and  the  common  nettle  —  served  me  as  a 
clue.  I  swept  my  free  hand  through  the 
air  as  I  went  along.  Each  sting  that  I  felt 
told  me  of  a  nettle,  in  other  words,  a  land- 
mark. Verlot,  in  the  rear,  also  lunged  about 
as  best  he  could  and  let  smarting  stings  make 
227 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

up  for  the  lack  of  vision.  Our  companions 
had  but  little  faith  in  this  style  of  recon- 
noitring. They  spoke  of  continuing  the 
furious  descent,  of  going  back,  if  necessary, 
all  the  way  to  Bedoin.  Verlot,  more  trustful 
of  the  botanical  insight  with  which  he  himself 
was  so  richly  endowed,  joined  me  in  pursuing 
our  search,  in  reassuring  the  more  demoral- 
ized and  in  showing  them  that  it  was  possible, 
by  questioning  the  plants  with  our  hands,  to 
reach  our  night's  lodging  in  spite  of  the  dark- 
ness. They  gave  way  to  our  arguments; 
and,  not  long  after,  pressing  on  from  one 
clump  of  nettles  to  another,  our  party  arrived 
at  the  Jas. 

There  we  found  Delacour,  as  well  as  the 
guide  with  our  luggage,  sheltered  betimes 
from  the  rain.  A  blazing  fire  and  a  change 
of  clothes  soon  restored  our  wonted  cheerful- 
ness. A  block  of  snow,  brought  from  the 
valley  near  by,  was  hung  in  a  bag  in  front  of 
the  hearth.  A  bottle  caught  the  water  as  the 
snow  melted:  this  was  the  cistern  for  our 
evening  meal.  And  the  night  was  spent  on 
a  bed  of  beech-leaves,  rubbed  into  powder  by 
our  predecessors;  and  they  were  numerous. 
Who  knows  how  many  years  had  passed  since 
228 


An  Ascent  of  Mont  Ventoux 

that  mattress,  now  a  vegetable  mould,  was 
last  renewed! 

Those  who  could  not  sleep  were  told  off  to 
keep  up  the  fire.  There  was  no  lack  of  hands 
to  stir  it,  for  the  smoke,  which  had  no  other 
outlet  than  a  large  hole  made  by  the  partial 
collapse  of  the  roof,  filled  the  hut  with  an 
atmosphere  fit  to  smoke  herrings.  To  ob- 
tain a  few  mouthfuls  of  breathable  air,  we 
had  to  seek  them  in  the  lower  strata,  with  our 
noses  almost  on  the  ground.  And  so  we 
coughed  and  cursed  and  poked  the  fire,  but 
vainly  tried  to  sleep.  We  were  all  afoot  by 
two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  ready  to  climb 
the  highest  cone  and  watch  the  sunrise.  The 
rain  had  stopped,  the  sky  was  glorious, 
promising  a  perfect  day. 

During  the  ascent,  some  of  us  felt  a  sort  of 
seasickness,  caused  first  by  fatigue  and  sec- 
ondly by  the  rarefaction  of  the  air.  The 
barometer  had  fallen  5.4  inches;  the  air  which 
we  were  breathing  had  lost  a  fifth  of  its  den- 
sity and  was  therefore  one-fifth  less  rich  in 
oxygen.  Had  we  been  in  good  condition, 
this  slight  alteration  in  the  air  would  have 
passed  unnoticed;  but,  coming  immediately 
after  the  exertions  of  the  day  before  and  a 
229 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

sleepless  night,  it  increased  our  discomfort. 
And  so  we  climbed  slowly,  with  aching  legs 
and  panting  chests.  More  than  one  of  us 
had  to  stop  and  rest  after  every  twentieth 
step. 

At  last  we  were  there.  We  took  refuge  in 
the  rustic  chapel  of  Sainte-Croix  to  take 
breath  and  counteract  the  nipping  morning 
air  by  a  pull  at  the  gourd,  which  this  time  was 
drained  to  the  last  drop.  Soon  the  sun  rose. 
Ventoux  projected  to  the  extreme  limits  of 
the  horizon  its  triangular  shadow,  whose 
sides  became  brightly  tinged  with  violet  by 
the  effect  of  the  diffracted  rays.  To  the 
south  and  west  stretched  misty  plains,  where, 
when  the  sun  was  higher  in  the  heavens,  we 
should  be  able  to  make  out  the  Rhone,  look- 
ing like  a  silver  thread.  On  the  north  and 
east,  under  our  feet,  lay  an  enormous  bank 
of  clouds,  a  sort  of  ocean  of  cotton-wool, 
whence  peeped,  like  islands  of  slag,  the  dark 
summits  of  the  lower  mountains.  A  few 
tops,  with  their  trailing  glaciers,  gleamed  in 
the  direction  of  the  Alps. 

But  botany  called  our  attention  and  we 
had  to  tear  ourselves  from  this  magic  spec- 
tacle. The  time  of  our  ascent,  in  August, 
was  a  little  late  in  the  year;  many  plants  were 
230 


An  Ascent  of  Mont  Ventoux 

no  longer  in  flower.  Would  you  do  some 
really  fruitful  herborizing?  Be  there  in  the 
first  fortnight  of  July;  above  all,  be  ahead  of 
the  grazing  herds:  where  the  Sheep  has 
browsed  you  will  gather  none  but  wretched 
leavings.  While  still  spared  by  the  hungry 
flocks,  the  top  of  the  Ventoux  in  July  is  a 
literal  bed  of  flowers;  its  loose  stony  surface 
is  studded  with  them.  My  memory  recalls, 
all  streaming  with  the  morning  dew,  those 
elegant  tufts  of  Androsace  villosa,  with  its 
pink-centred  white  blooms;  the  Mont-Cenis 
violet,  spreading  its  great  blue  blossoms  over 
the  chips  of  limestone;  the  spikenard 
valerian,  which  blends  the  sweet  perfume  of 
its  flowers  with  the  offensive  odour  of  its 
roots;  the  wedge-leaved  globularia,  forming 
close  carpets  of  bright  green  dotted  with  blue 
capitula;  the  Alpine  forget-me-not,  whose 
blue  rivals  that  of  the  skies;  the  Candolla 
candytuft,  whose  tiny  stalk  bears  a  dense 
head  of  little  white  flowers  and  goes  winding 
among  the  loose  stones;  the  opposite-leaved 
saxifrage  and  the  musky  saxifrage,  both  of 
them  packed  into  little  dark  cushions, 
studded  in  the  first  case  with  purple  flowers 
and  in  the  second  with  white  flowers  washed 
with  yellow.  When  the  sun's  rays  are  hot- 
231 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

ter,  we  shall  see  fluttering  idly  from  one  tuft 
of  blossom  to  another  a  magnificent  Butterfly 
with  white  wings  adorned  with  four  bright- 
crimson  spots,  surrounded  with  black.  'Tis 
Parnassius  Apollo,  the  beautiful  occupant  of 
the  Alpine  solitudes,  near  the  eternal  snows. 
Her  caterpillar  lives  on  the  saxifrages. 

Here  let  us  end  this  sketch  of  the  sweet 
joys  that  await  the  naturalist  on  the  summit 
of  Mont  Ventoux  and  return  to  the  Hairy 
Ammophila,  who  was  lurking  yesterday  in 
her  legions  under  the  shelter  of  a  stone  when 
the  misty  rain  came  and  enshrouded  us. 


232 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  TRAVELLERS 

T  HAVE  told  in  the  last  chapter  how,  on 
•••  the  ridges  of  Mont  Ventoux,  at  a  height 
of  nearly  6,000  feet,  I  had  one  of  those 
entomological  windfalls  which  would  be  rich 
in  results  if  they  occurred  often  enough  to 
serve  the  purpose  of  continuous  study.  Un- 
fortunately, mine  was  a  solitary  instance  and 
I  despair  of  ever  repeating  it.  I  can  there- 
fore only  base  conjectures  on  it,  in  the  hope 
that  future  observers  will  replace  my  sur- 
mises with  certainties. 

Under  the  shelter  of  a  broad,  flat  stone  I 
discovered  some  hundreds  of  Ammophilse 
(A.  hirsuta),  heaped  one  on  top  of  the  other 
almost  as  closely  as  the  Bees  in  a  swarm.  As 
soon  as  I  lifted  the  stone,  all  this  little  hairy 
world  began  to  run  about,  without  making 
any  attempt  to  fly  away.  I  shifted  the  mass 
by  handfuls:  not  one  of  the  Wasps  looked  as 
though  she  wished  to  desert  the  rest.  They 
seemed  indissolubly  united  by  common  inter- 
ests; none  of  them  would  go  unless  all  went. 
233 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

I  examined  with  every  possible  care  the  flat 
stone  that  sheltered  them,  as  well  as  the 
ground  underneath  and  just  around  it,  and 
discovered  not  a  thing  to  tell  me  the  cause  of 
this  strange  assemblage.  Having  nothing 
better  left  to  do,  I  tried  to  count  them;  and 
it  was  then  that  the  clouds  came  and  put  an 
end  to  my  observations  and  plunged  us  into 
that  darkness  of  which  I  have  described  the 
anxious  consequences.  At  the  first  drops  of 
rain,  before  leaving  the  spot,  I  hastened  to 
put  back  the  stone  and  replace  the  Ammo- 
philae  in  their  shelter.  I  give  myself  a  good 
mark,  which  I  hope  that  the  reader  will  con- 
firm, for  having  taken  the  precaution  not  to 
leave  the  poor  insects  whom  my  curiosity  had 
disturbed  at  the  mercy  of  the  downpour. 

The  Hairy  Ammophila  is  not  rare  in  the 
plains,  but  she  is  always  found  singly  by  the 
side  of  the  paths  or  on  the  sandy  slopes,  now 
engaged  in  digging  her  well,  anon  busily  cart- 
ing her  heavy  caterpillar.  She  lives  alone, 
like  the  Languedocian  Sphex;  and  it  was  a 
great  surprise  to  me  to  come  upon  such  a 
number  of  this  species  collected  under  one 
and  the  same  stone  almost  at  the  top  of  Mont 
Ventoux.  Instead  of  the  isolated  specimen 
which  I  had  known  hitherto,  a  crowded  com- 
234 


The  Travellers 

pany  presented  itself  to  my  eyes.  Let  us  try 
to  trace  the  probable  causes  of  this  agglomer- 
ation. 

The  Hairy  Ammophila  is  one  of  the  very 
rare  exceptions  among  the  Digger-wasps  in 
the  matter  of  nest-building:  she  gets  hers 
ready  in  the  early  days  of  spring.  Towards 
the  end  of  March,  if  the  season  be  mild,  or  at 
latest  in  the  first  fortnight  of  April,  when  the 
Crickets  assume  the  adult  form  and  labor- 
iously cast  the  skin  of  infancy  on  the 
threshold  of  their  homes,  when  the  poet's- 
narcissus  puts  forth  its  first  flowers  and  the 
Bunting  utters  his  long-drawn  call  from  the 
top  of  the  poplars  in  the  fields,  Ammophila 
hirsuta  is  at  work  digging  a  home  for  her 
grubs  and  victualling  it,  whereas  the  other 
Ammophilas  and  the  various  Hunting  Wasps 
in  general  postpone  this  labour  until  autumn, 
during  September  and  October.  This  early 
nidification,  preceding  by  six  months  the  date 
adopted  by  the  vast  majority,  at  once  suggests 
a  few  reflections. 

We  wonder  if  the  Ammophilae  whom  we 
find  occupied  with  their  burrows  in  the  first 
days  of  April  are  really  insects  of  that  year, 
that  is  to  say,  if  these  spring  workers  com- 
pleted their  metamorphosis  and  left  their 
235 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

cocoons  during  the  previous  three  months. 
The  general  rule  is  for  the  Digger  to  become 
a  perfect  insect,  to  quit  her  subterranean 
dwelling  and  to  busy  herself  with  her  larvae 
all  in  one  season.  Most  of  the  Predatory 
Wasps  leave  the  galleries  where  they  lived 
as  larvae  in  the  months  of  June  and  July  and 
display  their  talents  as  miners  and  hunters  in 
the  following  months  of  August,  September 
and  October. 

Does  a  similar  law  apply  to  the  Hairy  Am- 
mophila?  Does  the  same  season  witness  the 
insect's  final  transformation  and  its  labours? 
It  is  very  doubtful,  for  the  Wasp  occupied  on 
the  work  of  the  burrow  at  the  end  of  March 
would  in  that  case  have  to  complete  her 
metamorphosis  and  to  break  out  of  her 
cocoon  during  the  winter,  or  at  latest  in  Feb- 
ruary. The  severity  of  the  climate  at  this 
period  does  not  allow  us  to  accept  such  a 
conclusion.  It  is  not  at  a  time  when  the 
bleak  mistral  howls  for  a  fortnight  without 
intermission  and  freezes  the  ground  hard,  it 
is  not  at  a  time  when  snow-storms  follow 
close  upon  that  icy  blast  that  the  delicate 
transformations  of  the  nymphosis  are  able  to 
take  place  or  the  insect  to  dream  of  abandon- 
ing the  shelter  of  its  cocoon.  It  needs  the 
236 


The  Travellers 

warm  moisture  of  the  earth  under  the  sum- 
mer sun  before  it  can  leave  its  cell. 

If  I  knew  the  exact  period  at  which  the 
Hairy  Ammophila  emerges  from  her  native 
burrow,  this  would  help  me  greatly;  but,  to 
my  intense  regret,  I  do  not  know  it.  My 
notes,  collected  day  by  day,  with  the  lack  of 
order  inevitable  in  a  type  of  research  that  is 
constantly  subject  to  the  hazards  of  the  un- 
foreseen, are  silent  on  this  point,  of  which  I 
clearly  perceive  the  importance  now  that  I 
am  trying  to  arrange  my  materials  in  order  to 
write  these  lines.  I  find  the  Sandy  Ammo- 
phila mentioned  as  hatching  on  the  5th  of 
June  and  the  Silvery  Ammophila  on  the 
2Oth  of  that  month;  but  my  records  con- 
tain not  a  word  that  relates  to  the  hatch- 
ing of  the  Hairy  Ammophila.  It  is  a  de- 
tail which,  by  an  oversight,  has  never  been 
cleared  up.  The  dates  given  for  the  other 
two  species  come  under  the  general  law,  which 
lays  down  that  the  perfect  insect  shall  appear 
during  the  hot  season.  I  fix  the  same  period, 
by  analogy,  as  that  for  the  Hairy  Ammo- 
phila's  emergence  from  the  cocoon. 

Then  whence  come  the  Ammophilae  whom 
we  see  working  at  their  burrows  at  the  end 
of  March  and  in  April?  We  are  driven  to 
237 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

the  conclusion  that  these  Wasps  belong  not 
to  the  present  but  to  the  previous  year;  that 
they  left  their  cells  at  the  usual  time,  in  June 
and  July,  got  through  the  winter  and  began  to 
make  their  nests  as  soon  as  the  spring  came. 
In  a  word,  they  are  hibernating  insects. 
And  this  conclusion  is  fully  borne  out  by  ex- 
periment. 

If  we  will  but  search  patiently  in  the  per- 
pendicular banks  of  earth  or  sand  facing  due 
south,  especially  those  in  which  generations 
of  different  honey-gathering  Bees  have  suc- 
ceeded one  another  year  after  year  and 
riddled  the  wall  with  a  labyrinth  of  tunnels 
until  it  looks  like  an  enormous  sponge,  we  are 
almost  sure,  in  midwinter,  to  find  the  Hairy 
Ammophila  snugly  ensconced  in  the  shelters 
provided  by  the  sunny  bank,  alone  or  in 
groups  of  three  or  four,  idly  awaiting  the 
arrival  of  the  fine  weather.  I  have  been  able 
to  give  myself  as  often  as  I  wished  this  little 
treat  of  renewing  my  acquaintance,  amid  the 
gloom  and  cold  of  winter,  with  the  pretty 
Wasp  who  enlivens  the  greensward  beside 
the  paths  at  the  first  notes  of  the  Bunting  and 
the  Cricket.  When  there  is  no  wind  and  the 
sun  is  shining  brightly,  the  warmth-loving 
insect  comes  to  its  threshold  to  bask  lux- 
338 


The  Travellers 

uriously  in  the  hottest  rays,  or  it  will  even 
timidly  venture  outside  and,  step  by  step, 
stroll  over  the  surface  of  the  spongy  bank, 
polishing  its  wings  as  it  goes.  Even  so  does 
the  little  Grey  Lizard  behave,  when  the  sun 
once  more  begins  to  warm  the  old  wall  that 
represents  his  native  land. 

But  vain  would  be  our  search  in  winter, 
even  in  the  most  sheltered  refuges,  for  a 
Cerceris,  Sphex,  Philanthus,  Bembex  or  other 
Wasp  with  carnivorous  grubs.  All  died 
after  their  autumnal  labours  and  their  race  is 
not  represented,  in  the  cold  season,  save  by 
the  larvae  slumbering  in  their  cells.  It  is, 
then,  by  a  most  rare  exception  that  the  Hairy 
Ammophila,  hatched  in  the  hot  season,  spends 
the  following  winter  in  some  warm  shelter; 
and  this  is  the  reason  why  she  appears  so 
very  early  in  the  spring. 

With  these  data  to  go  upon,  let  us  try  to 
explain  the  cluster  of  Ammophilae  which  I 
observed  on  the  ridges  of  Mont  Ventoux. 
What  could  these  numerous  Wasps  have  been 
doing,  heaped  up  under  their  stone?  Were 
they  preparing  to  take  up  their  winter- 
quarters  there  and,  slumbering  under  cover, 
to  await  the  season  favourable  to  their  work? 
Everything  tends  to  show  that  this  is  im- 
239 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

probable.  It  is  not  in  August,  at  the  hottest 
time  of  year,  that  an  animal  is  overcome  with 
its  winter  drowsiness.  Nor  is  it  any  use  to 
suggest  the  want  of  food,  of  honeyed  juices 
sucked  from  the  flowers.  The  September 
showers  are  at  hand;  and  vegetation,  sus- 
pended for  a  moment  by  the  heat  of  the  dog- 
days,  will  gather  fresh  vigour  and  cover  the 
fields  with  blossoms  almost  as  diverse  as 
those  of  spring.  This  season  of  revelry  for 
the  majority  of  Wasps  and  Bees  could  never 
be  a  period  of  torpor  for  the  Hairy  Am- 
mophila. 

And  then  have  we  any  right  to  imagine 
that  the  heights  of  Ventoux,  swept  by  the 
gusts  of  the  mistral,  which  sometimes  up- 
roots both  beech  and  pine;  that  crests  where 
the  north-wind  sends  the  snow-flakes  whirling 
for  six  months  in  succession;  that  peaks 
wrapped  for  the  best  part  of  the  year  in  cold 
cloud-fogs  can  be  adopted  as  a  winter  refuge 
by  an  insect  enamoured  of  the  sun?  One 
might  as  well  suggest  that  it  should  hibernate 
among  the  ice-floes  of  the  North  Cape.  No, 
it  is  not  here  that  the  Hairy  Ammophila  can 
spend  the  cold  season.  The  group  which  I 
observed  was  only  passing  through.  At  the 
first  hint  of  rain,  a  hint  that  escaped  us  but 
240 


The  Travellers 

could  not  escape  the  insect,  which  is  so  highly 
sensitive  to  the  atmospheric  variations,  the 
band  of  travellers  had  taken  shelter  under  a 
stone,  waiting  for  the  rain  to  stop  before 
resuming  their  flight.  Whence  did  they 
come  ?  Whither  were  they  bent? 

In  this  same  month  of  August  and  still 
more  in  September,  we  are  visited,  in  our 
warm,  olive-clad  regions,  by  caravans  of  little 
birds  of  passage  descending  by  easy  stages 
from  the  countries  where  they  have  wooed 
and  loved,  countries  cooler,  more  thickly 
wooded,  less  wild  than  ours,  where  they  have 
reared  their  broods.  They  arrive  almost  on 
a  fixed  day,  in  an  unvarying  order,  as  though 
guided  by  the  dates  of  a  calendar  known  only 
to  themselves.  They  sojourn  for  some  time 
in  our  plains,  a  halting-place  rich  in  insects, 
which  form  the  exclusive  fare  of  most  of 
them;  they  ransack  every  clod  in  our  fields, 
where  the  ploughshare  by  now  has  laid  bare 
in  the  furrows  a  multitude  of  grubs,  their 
special  delight;  thanks  to  this  diet,  they  soon 
put  on  a  fine  cushion  of  fat,  a  storehouse  of 
reserve  provisions  for  the  coming  exertions; 
and  at  last,  supplied  with  this  viaticum,  they 
continue  their  southward  flight,  making  for 
the  winterless  lands  where  insects  are  never 
241 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

lacking:  Spain,  Southern  Italy,  the  Mediter- 
ranean islands  and  Africa.  This  is  the  sea- 
son for  brave  sport  with  the  gun  and  for 
dainty  roasts  of  small  birds. 

The  first  to  arrive  is  the  Shore-lark,  or,  as 
he  is  called  in  these  parts,  the  Creou. 
August  is  hardly  here  before  we  see  him  ex- 
ploring the  pebbly  fields,  in  search  of  the 
little  seeds  of  setaria,  an  ill  weed  that  over- 
runs our  tilled  soil.  At  the  least  alarm,  he 
flies  away  with  a  harsh  clattering  in  his  throat 
which  is  not  badly  represented  by  his  Pro- 
venc.al  name.  He  is  soon  followed  by  the 
Whin-chat,  who  preys  placidly  on  small 
Weevils,  Locusts  and  Ants  in  the  old  lucern- 
fields.  With  him  begins  the  long  line  of 
small  winged  things,  the  glory  of  the  spit. 
It  is  continued,  when  September  comes,  by 
the  most  famous  of  them,  the  Common 
Wheat-ear,  or  White-tail,  extolled  by  all  who 
are  able  to  appreciate  his  exalted  qualities. 
No  Beccafico  of  the  Roman  epicures,  immor- 
talized in  Martial's  epigrams,  ever  equalled 
the  exquisite,  scented  ball  of  fat  that  is  the 
Wheat-ear,  grown  shamefully  stout  on  glut- 
tonous living.  He  is  an  unbridled  devourer 
of  every  kind  of  insect.  The  notes  which  I 
have  taken  as  a  sportsman  and  naturalist  bear 
242 


The  Travellers 

witness  to  the  contents  of  his  gizzard.  It 
includes  the  whole  little  world  of  the  fallow 
fields:  grubs  and  Weevils  of  every  species, 
Locusts,  Tortoise-beetles,  Golden  Apple- 
beetles,  Crickets,  Earwigs,  Ants,  Spiders, 
Wood-lice,  Snails,  Millipedes  and  ever  so 
many  others.  And,  as  a  change  from  this 
full-flavoured  diet,  there  are  grapes,  black- 
berries and  dogberries.  Such  is  the  bill  of 
fare  for  which  the  Wheat-ear  is  ever  in 
search,  as  he  flies  from  clod  to  clod,  with  the 
white  feathers  of  his  outspread  tail  giving 
him  that  fictitious  look  of  a  Butterfly  on  the 
wing.  And  Heaven  knows  what  prodigies 
of  plumpness  he  is  able  to  achieve. 

He  has  only  one  master  in  the  art  of  self? 
fattening.  This  is  one  whose  migration  syn^ 
chronizes  with  his,  one  who  is  likewise  an 
enthusiastic  insect-eater:  the  Bush-pipit,  as 
the  nomenclators  so  absurdly  call  him, 
whereas  the  dullest  of  our  shepherds  never 
hesitates  to  speak  of  him  as  the  Grasset,  the 
champion  fat  bird.  The  name  in  itself  fully 
describes  his  leading  characteristic.  No 
other  achieves  such  a  degree  of  obesity.  A 
moment  comes  when,  laden  with  pads  of  fat 
up  to  its  wings,  its  neck  and  the  back  of  its 
head,  the  bird  looks  like  a  little  pat  of  butter. 
243 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

The  poor  thing  can  hardly  flutter  from  one 
mulberry-tree  to  the  next,  where  it  stops  to 
pant  in  the  thick  leafage,  half-choked  with 
melting  fat,  a  martyr  to  its  passion  for 
Weevils. 

October  brings  us  the  slender  White  Wag- 
tail, half  pearly  grey,  half  white,  with  a  large 
black-velvet  chest-protector.  The  graceful 
little  bird,  trotting  along  and  cocking  up  its 
tail,  follows  the  ploughman  almost  under  the 
horses'  feet  and  picks  the  grubs  in  the  new- 
turned  furrow.  About  the  same  time  the 
Skylark  arrives,  first  in  little  companies  sent 
out  as  scouting-parties,  next  in  countless  bat- 
talions, which  take  possession  of  the  corn- 
fields and  fallow  land,  with  their  plentiful 
setaria-seeds,  the  bird's  usual  fare.  Then,  in 
the  plain,  amid  the  universal  glitter  of  dew- 
drops  and  rime-crystals  hanging  from  every 
blade  of  grass,  the  treacherous  mirror  shoots 
forth  its  intermittent  flashes  in  the  rays  of  the 
morning  sun ;  then  the  little  Owl,  released  by 
the  hunter's  hand,  makes  his  short  flight, 
alights,  starts  up  again  convulsively,  rolling 
frightened  eyes;  and  the  Lark  arrives,  dipping 
on  the  wing,  curious  to  obtain  a  closer  view  of 
the  bright  apparatus  or  the  grotesque  bird. 
He  is  there,  in  front  of  you,  a  dozen  yards 
244 


The  Travellers 

away,  with  feet  pendant  and  wings  outspread 
like  the  Dove  in  a  sacred  picture.  Now 
then :  take  aim  and  fire !  I  wish  my  readers 
the  excitement  of  this  fascinating  sport. 

With  the  Skylark,  often  in  the  same  com- 
panies, comes  the  Tit-lark,  commonly  called 
the  Sisi.  Here  again  an  onomatopoeia  gives 
us  the  bird's  little  call-note.  None  goes  with 
greater  fury  for  the  Owl,  round  whom  he 
manoeuvres  and  hovers  constantly.  But  we 
will  not  continue  the  list  of  the  birds  of  pass- 
age that  visit  us.  Most  of  them  make  but  a 
short  halt  here;  they  stay  for  a  few  weeks, 
attracted  by  the  abundance  of  food,  especially 
of  insects;  then,  plump  and  strong,  they 
pursue  their  southward  journey.  Others, 
fewer  these,  take  up  their  winter-quarters  in 
our  plains,  where  snow  is  very  rare  and  where 
thousands  of  little  seeds  lie  exposed  on  the 
ground,  even  in  the  depth  of  winter.  One  of 
these  is  the  Skylark,  who  gives  his  attention  to 
the  corn-fields  and  fallows;  another  is  the 
Titlark,  who  prefers  the  lucern-fields  and 
meadows. 

The  Skylark,  so  common  in  almost  every 

part  of  France,  does  not  nest  in  the  Vaucluse 

plains,  where  his  place  is  taken  by  the  Crested 

Lark,  that  frequenter  of  the  broad  highway, 

245 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

the  roadmender's  friend.  But  one  need  not 
go  far  north  to  find  the  favourite  spots  for  the 
Skylark's  broods:  the  next  department,  the 
Drome,  is  rich  in  his  nests.  It  is  very 
probable  therefore  that,  out  of  the  numbers 
of  Skylarks  that  come  to  take  possession  of 
our  plains  for  the  whole  of  autumn  and 
winter,  there  are  many  that  travel  no  farther 
than  the  Drome.  They  have  only  to  migrate 
to  the  next  department  to  find  plains  free 
from  snow  and  a  steady  supply  of  tiny  seeds. 
A  like  migration  to  a  short  distance  seems  to 
me  to  have  caused  the  crowd  of  Ammophilae 
which  I  surprised  near  the  top  of  Mont 
Ventoux.  I  have  shown  that  this  Wasp 
spends  the  winter  in  the  perfect  insect-state, 
hidden  in  some  shelter  and  waiting  until  April 
to  make  her  nest.  She  also,  like  the  Skylark, 
must  take  her  precautions  against  the  frosty 
season.  Though  she  need  not  fear  the  lack 
of  food,  being  capable  of  fasting  until  the 
return  of  the  flowers,  she  must  at  least,  deli- 
cate creature  that  she  is,  guard  against  the 
fatal  attacks  of  the  cold.  She  will  therefore 
flee  snowy  country,  the  districts  where  the 
ground  freezes  to  a  great  depth;  she  will 
assemble  in  a  migratory  caravan,  after  the 
manner  of  the  birds,  and,  crossing  hill  and 
246 


The  Travellers 

dale,  will  select  a  home  in  old  walls  and  sandy 
banks  warmed  by  the  southern  sun.  Then, 
when  the  cold  is  past,  all  or  part  of  the  troop 
will  return  to  the  place  whence  they  came. 
This  would  explain  the  Ventoux  band  of 
Ammophilae.  It  was  a  travelling  tribe 
which,  coming  from  the  cold  uplands  of  the 
Drome  and  descending  into  the  warm  plains 
beloved  of  the  olive-tree,  had  crossed  the 
wide,  deep  valley  of  the  Toulourenc  and, 
when  surprised  by  the  rain,  had  called  a  halt 
on  the  mountain-ridge.  Apparently,  there- 
fore, the  Hairy  Ammophila  has  to  migrate  in 
order  to  escape  the  cold  of  winter.  At  the 
time  when  the  little  birds  of  passage  start 
their  procession  of  caravans,  she  too  journeys 
from  a  colder  to  a  warmer  neighbourhood. 
She  has  but  to  cross  a  few  valleys  and  a  few 
mountains  to  find  the  climate  which  she  wants. 
I  have  two  other  instances  of  extraordinary 
gatherings  of  insects  at  great  heights.  In 
October,  I  have  found  the  chapel  at  the  sum- 
mit of  Mont  Ventoux  covered  with  Coccinella 
septempunctata,  the  Seven-spot  Ladybird. 
The  insects  clinging  to  the  stone  of  both  the 
roof  and  walls  were  packed  so  close  together 
that  the  rude  edifice  looked,  from  a  little  way 
off,  like  a  piece  of  coral-work.  I  should  not 
247 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

care  to  guess  the  myriad  numbers  of  the 
Ladybirds  collected  there.  Those  Aphis- 
eaters  had  certainly  not  been  attracted  by  the 
hope  of  food  to  the  top  of  the  Ventoux,  some 
6,000  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  Veg- 
etation is  too  scanty  up  there;  and  no  Plant- 
louse  ever  ventured  so  high. 

On  another  occasion,  in  June,  on  the  table- 
land of  Saint-Amans,  a  neighbour  of  the 
Ventoux,  at  a  height  of  2,400  feet,  I  wit- 
nessed a  similar  gathering,  only  much  less 
numerous.  At  the  most  prominent  part  of 
the  plateau,  on  the  edge  of  a  bluff  of  perpen- 
dicular rocks,  stands  a  cross  with  a  pedestal 
of  hewn  stone.  On  each  face  of  this  pedestal 
and  on  the  rocks  supporting  it,  the  same 
Beetles,  the  Seven-spot  Ladybirds  of  the  Ven- 
toux, had  gathered  in  their  legions.  The  in- 
sects were  mostly  stationary;  but,  wherever 
the  sun  beat  at  all  fiercely,  there  was  a  con- 
tinual exchange  between  the  newcomers,  anx- 
ious to  find  room,  and  the  old  occupants  of 
the  wayside  cross,  who  took  to  their  wings 
only  to  return  after  a  short  flight. 

Nothing  here,  any  more  than  on  the  sum- 
mit of  the  Ventoux,  was  able  to  tell  me  the 
cause  of  these  strange  meetings  on  arid  spots, 
containing  no  Plant-lice  and  possessing  no 
248 


The  Travellers 

attraction  for  Ladybirds;  nothing  suggested 
the  secret  of  these  crowded  gatherings  on 
masonry  situated  at  a  great  height.  Were 
these  again  instances  of  entomological  migra- 
tion? Were  they  general  musterings,  similar 
to  that  of  the  Swallows  on  the  day  before 
their  common  departure?  Were  they  meet- 
ing-places whence  the  swarm  of  Ladybirds 
was  to  make  for  some  district  richer  in 
edibles?  It  is  possible,  but  it  is  also  very 
extraordinary.  The  Ladybird  has  rarely 
been  noted  as  a  devotee  of  travel.  She  seems 
to  us  a  very  stay-at-home  creature  when  we 
see  her  butchering  the  Green-fly  on  our  rose- 
trees  and  the  Black-fly  on  our  beans ;  and  yet, 
with  her  short  wings,  she  holds  plenary  as- 
semblies, in  immense  numbers,  on  the  summit 
of  Mont  Ventoux,  where  the  Martin  himself 
ascends  only  at  moments  of  violent  energy. 
Why  these  meetings  at  such  altitudes? 
What  can  be  the  reason  of  this  predilection 
for  blocks  of  masonry? 


249 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  AMMOPHIL^E 

A  SLENDER  waist,  a  slim  shape;  an  ab- 
•**•  domen  tapering  very  much  at  the  upper 
part  and  fastened  to  the  body  as  though  by  a 
thread;  black  raiment  with  a  red  sash  across 
the  belly :  there  you  have  a  summary  descrip- 
tion of  these  burrowers,  who  are  akin  to  the 
Sphex  in  form  and  colouring,  but  differ  greatly 
from  them  in  habits.  The  Sphex  hunt  Or- 
thoptera  —  Locusts,  Grasshoppers,  Crickets 
—  while  caterpillars  are  the  quarry  of  the 
Ammophilae.  This  change  of  prey  in  itself 
suggests  new  methods  in  the  lethal  tactics  of 
instinct. 

If  the  name  did  not  sound  so  pleasant  to 
the  ear,  I  would  willingly  quarrel  with  the 
term  Ammophila,  which  means  "  sand-lover," 
as  being  too  exclusive  and  often  erroneous. 
The  real  lovers  of  sand,  of  dry,  dusty,  stream- 
ing sand,  are  the  Bembex,  who  prey  on  Flies; 
but  the  caterpillar-hunters,  whose  story  I  now 
propose  to  relate,  have  no  predilection  for 
ordinary  shifting  sand  and  even  avoid  it  as 
250 


The  Ammophilas 

being  liable  to  landslips  on  the  slightest 
provocation.  Their  perpendicular  shaft, 
which  has  to  remain  open  until  the  cell 
receives  the  provisions  and  an  egg,  requires  a 
firmer  setting  if  it  is  not  to  be  prematurely 
blocked.  What  they  want  is  a  light  soil, 
easily  tunnelled,  in  which  the  sandy  element 
is  cemented  with  a  little  clay  and  lime. 
Edges  of  paths,  sunny  banks  where  the  grass 
is  rather  bare :  those  are  the  favourite  spots. 
In  spring,  quite  early  in  April,  we  see  the 
Hairy  Ammophila  (A.  hirsuta)  there;  when 
September  and  October  come,  we  find  the 
Sandy  Ammophila  (A.  sabulosa),  the  Sil- 
very Ammophila  (A.  argentata)  and  the 
Silky  Ammophila  (A.  holosericea) .  I  will 
here  condense  the  information  which  I  have 
gathered  from  the  four  species. 

In  the  case  of  all  four,  the  burrow  is  a 
vertical  shaft,  a  sort  of  well,  possessing  at 
most  the  diameter  of  a  thick  goose-quill  and 
a  depth  of  about  two  inches.  At  the  bottom 
is  the  cell,  which  is  always  solitary  and  con- 
sists of  a  mere  widening  of  the  entrance- 
shaft.  It  is,  when  all  is  said,  a  poor  lodg- 
ing, obtained  economically,  in  one  day's 
work;  the  larva  will  find  no  protection  there 
against  the  winter  except  from  the  four  wrap- 
251 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

pers  of  its  cocoon,  copied  from  that  of  the 
Sphex.  The  Ammophila  digs  by  herself, 
quietly,  without  hurrying,  without  any  joyous 
enthusiasm.  As  usual,  the  fore-tarsi  serve  as 
rakes  and  the  mandibles  do  duty  as  mining- 
tools.  When  some  grain  of  sand  offers 
too  much  resistance  to  its  removal,  you  hear 
rising  from  the  bottom  of  the  well,  as  though 
to  give  voice  to  the  insect's  efforts,  a  sort 
of  shrill  grating  sound  produced  by  the  quiv- 
ering of  the  wings  and  of  the  whole  body. 
At  frequent  intervals  the  Wasp  appears  in 
the  open  with  a  load  of  refuse  in  her  teeth, 
some  bit  of  gravel  which  she  flies  away  with 
and  drops  at  a  distance  of  a  few  inches,  so 
as  not  to  litter  the  place.  Of  the  grains  ex- 
tracted some  appear  to  deserve  special  atten- 
tion, owing  to  their  shape  and  size;  at  least, 
the  Ammophila  does  not  treat  them  as  she 
does  the  rest:  instead  of  flying  off  and  drop- 
ping them  far  from  the  workyard,  she  re- 
moves them  on  foot  and  lays  them  near  the 
well.  These  are  picked  materials,  ready- 
made  blocks  of  stone  which  will  serve  pre- 
sently for  closing  the  dwelling. 

This  outside  work  is  performed  with  meas- 
ured movements  and  solemn  diligence.  The 
insect  stands  high  on  its  legs,  with  its  ab- 

252 


The  Ammophilae 

domen  stretched  at  the  end  of  its  long  pedicle, 
and  turns  round  slowly,  pivoting  its  whole 
body  stiffly,  with  the  geometrical  rigidity  of 
a  line  revolving  on  itself.  If  it  wishes  to 
fling  to  a  distance  the  rubbish  which  it  thinks 
will  be  in  the  way,  it  does  so  in  short  silent 
flights,  often  backwards,  as  though  the  Wasp, 
emerging  from  her  well  head  last,  avoided 
turning,  so  as  to  save  time.  It  is  the  species 
carrying  their  abdomens  on  the  longest  stalks, 
such  as  the  Sandy  Ammophila  and  the  Silky 
Ammophila,  which  mainly  display  this  auto- 
maton-like rigidity  in  action.  That  belly 
swelling  into  a  pear  at  the  end  of  a  thread 
is  in  fact  a  very  delicate  thing  to  steer :  a  sud- 
den movement  might  warp  the  fine  stalk.  So 
we  must  walk  with  a  sort  of  geometrical 
rigour;  if  we  have  to  fly,  we  will  do  so  back- 
wards, to  avoid  tacking  too  often.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  Hairy  Ammophila,  who  has 
a  short  abdominal  pedicle,  works  at  her  bur- 
row with  the  heedless,  nimble  movements 
which  we  admire  in  most  of  the  Digger- 
wasps.  She  has  more  freedom  of  action,  be- 
cause her  belly  does  not  get  in  her  way. 

The  home  is  dug.     At  a  later  hour  in  the 
day,  or  even  merely  when  the  sun  has  left 
the  place  where  the  burrow  has  just  been 
253 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

bored,  the  Ammophila  invariably  visits  the 
little  heap  of  stones  placed  in  reserve  during 
the  excavating,  with  the  object  of  choosing 
a  bit  to  suit  her.  If  there  is  nothing  that 
satisfies  her  needs,  she  explores  the  neigh- 
bourhood and  soon  discovers  what  she  wants, 
a  small  flat  stone  slightly  larger  in  diameter 
than  the  mouth  of  her  hole.  She  carries  off 
this  slab  in  her  mandibles  and  lays  it,  as  a 
temporary  door,  over  the  opening  of  the 
burrow.  To-morrow,  when  the  weather  is 
once  more  hot  and  the  sun  bathes  the  slopes 
and  encourages  hunting,  the  Wasp  will  know 
quite  well  how  to  find  her  home,  rendered 
inviolable  by  the  massive  door;  she  will  come 
back  with  a  paralysed  caterpillar,  grasped  by 
the  skin  of  its  neck  and  dragged  between  its 
captor's  legs;  she  will  lift  the  slab,  which 
nothing  distinguishes  from  other  little  stones 
around  and  which  she  alone  is  able  to  iden- 
tify; she  will  let  down  the  game  to  the  bot- 
tom of  the  well,  lay  her  egg  and  close  the 
house  for  good  by  sweeping  into  the  perpen- 
dicular shaft  all  the  rubbish  which  she  has 
kept  in  the  vicinity. 

Time  after  time,  the  Sandy  Ammophila 
and  the  Silvery  Ammophila  have  shown  me 
this  temporary  closing  of  the  hole  when  the 
254 


The  Ammophilae 

sun  begins  to  go  down  and  when  the  lateness 
of  the  hour  compels  the  victualling  to  be 
put  off  till  the  morrow.  When  the  dwelling 
had  been  sealed  up  by  the  Wasp,  I  too  would 
postpone  my  observations  till  the  next  day, 
but  only  after  first  making  a  map  of  the 
ground,  choosing  my  lines  and  landmarks  and 
planting  a  few  stalks  as  signposts  to  show 
me  the  way  to  the  well  when  it  was  filled. 
If  I  did  not  come  back  very  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, if  I  left  the  Wasp  time  to  take  advantage 
of  the  hours  of  bright  sunshine,  I  invariably 
found  the  burrow  finally  stocked  with  pro- 
visions and  closed. 

This  faithfulness  of  memory  is  striking. 
The  Wasp,  delayed  in  her  task,  puts  off  the 
rest  of  her  work  to  the  next  day.  She  does 
not  spend  the  evening,  she  does  not  spend 
the  night  in  the  home  which  she  has  just 
dug:  on  the  contrary,  she  leaves  the  premises 
altogether  and  goes  away,  after  concealing 
the  entrance  with  a  little  stone.  The  local- 
ity is  not  familiar  to  her;  she  knows  it  no 
better  than  any  other  spot,  for  the  Ammo- 
philae behave  like  the  Languedocian  Sphex 
and  lodge  their  families  here  or  there,  wher- 
ever they  happen  to  roam.  The  Wasp  was 
there  by  chance;  the  soil  suited  her;  she  dug 
255 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

her  burrow;  and  she  now  goes  off.  Where 
to?  Who  can  tell?  Perhaps  to  the  flowers 
not  far  away,  where,  by  the  last  gleams  of 
daylight,  she  will  sip  a  drop  of  sugary  liquid 
at  the  bottom  of  the  cups,  even  as  our  miners, 
after  toiling  in  their  dark  galleries,  fly  for 
comfort  to  the  bottle  in  the  evening.  She 
goes  off,  to  a  less  or  greater  distance,  stopping 
at  this  bin  and  that  in  the  flowers'  cellar. 
The  evening,  the  night,  the  morning  slip  by. 
Still,  she  must  return  to  the  burrow  and  com- 
plete her  task,  she  must  return  after  the 
marches  and  countermarches  of  the  morning 
hunt  and  the  bewildering  flight  from  flower 
to  flower  during  the  libations  of  the  evening 
before.  That  the  Social  Wasp  should  re- 
turn to  her  nest  and  the  Social  Bee  to  her 
hive  does  not  surprise  me  at  all:  the  hive 
and  the  nest  are  permanent  residences,  the 
way  to  which  becomes  known  by  long  practice ; 
but  the  Ammophila  has  no  acquaintance  with 
the  locality  which  could  help  her  to  return 
to  her  burrow  after  such  a  long  absence. 
Her  tunnel  is  at  a  spot  which  she  perhaps  vis- 
ited yesterday  for  the  first  time  and  which 
she  must  find  again  to-morrow,  when  she  is 
quite  out  of  her  bearings  and  moreover  ham- 
pered with  a  heavy  load  of  game.  Never- 
256 


The  Ammophilae 

theless  this  little  feat  of  topographical  mem- 
ory is  performed,  sometimes  with  a  precision 
that  left  me  astounded.  The  Wasp  would 
walk  straight  to  her  burrow  as  if  she  had 
long  been  using  all  the  little  paths  in  the 
neighbourhood.  At  other  times,  she  would 
wander  backwards  and  forwards  and  renew 
her  search  over  and  over  again. 

If  the  quest  is  greatly  prolonged,  the  prey, 
which  is  a  troublesome  burden  when  you  are 
in  a  hurry  to  find  your  home,  is  laid  down  in 
some  high  place,  on  a  cluster  of  thyme  or  a 
tuft  of  grass,  where  it  will  be  well  in  sight 
presently,  when  wanted.  Thus  eased,  the 
Ammophila  resumes  her  active  search.  I 
made  a  pencil-sketch,  as  she  moved  about,  of 
the  tracks  followed.  The  result  was  a  med- 
ley of  tangled  lines,  with  sudden  bends  and 
turns,  branches  in  and  branches  out,  wind- 
ings and  repeated  intersections,  in  short,  a 
regular  labyrinth  whose  complicated  maze 
was  an  ocular  demonstration  of  the  perplex- 
ity of  the  lost  one. 

When  the  well  has  been  found  and  the 
slab  removed,  the  Wasp  has  to  come  back 
to  the  caterpillar,  which  is  not  always  done 
without  some  groping  about,  in  cases  where 
her  wanderings  to  and  fro  have  been  very 
257 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

numerous.  Though  she  left  her  prey  easily 
visible,  the  Wasp  appears  to  foresee  the  dif- 
ficulty of  finding  it  again  when  the  moment 
comes  to  drag  it  home.  At  least,  if  the 
search  is  unduly  prolonged,  you  see  her  sud- 
denly interrupt  her  exploration  of  the  ground 
and  return  to  her  caterpillar,  which  she  feels 
and  nibbles  at  for  a  moment,  as  though  to 
make  sure  that  it  is  really  her  own  game,  her 
property.  Then  she  hurries  back  again  to 
the  field  of  search,  which  she  leaves  a  second 
time,  if  need  be,  and  a  third,  in  order  to 
inspect  the  prey.  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that 
these  repeated  visits  of  the  Wasp  to  the 
caterpillar  are  not  a  means  of  refreshing  her 
memory  of  the  place  where  she  left  it. 

This  is  what  happens  in  exceedingly  com- 
plicated cases;  but  as  a  rule  the  Wasp  goes 
back  quite  easily  to  the  well  dug  the  day 
before  on  the  spot  to  which  chance  has  taken 
her.  The  vagabond's  guide  is  her  topo- 
graphical memory,  whose  marvellous  feats 
I  shall  have  to  tell  later.  As  for  me,  in 
order  to  return  next  day  to  the  well  hidden 
under  the  lid  of  the  little  flat  stone,  I  dared 
not  trust  to  my  unaided  memory:  I  needed 
notes,  sketches,  lines  of  latitude  and  longi- 
258 


The  Ammophilae 

tude,  landmarks,  in  short,  all  the  minutiae  of 
geometry. 

The  temporary  closing  of  the  burrow  with 
a  flat  stone,  as  practised  by  the  Sandy  Ammo- 
phila  and  the  Silvery  Ammophila,  is  ap- 
parently unknown  to  the  other  two  spe- 
cies. At  any  rate,  I  never  saw  their  homes 
protected  by  a  lid.  Besides,  this  absence 
of  a  provisional  door  seems  to  be  obliga- 
tory upon  the  Hairy  Ammophila.  In  fact, 
as  far  as  I  could  see,  this  species  hunts  its 
prey  first  and  then  digs  its  burrow  near  the 
place  of  capture.  In  this  way,  the  storing 
of  the  provisions  can  be  done  straight  away; 
and  there  is  no  need  to  trouble  about  a  lid. 
As  for  the  Silky  Ammophila,  I  suspect  that 
she  has  another  reason  for  not  employing  a 
temporary  cover.  Whereas  the  three  others 
put  only  one  caterpillar  in  each  burrow,  she 
puts  in  as  many  as  five,  though  much  smaller 
ones.  Just  as  we  ourselves  neglect  to  shut 
a  door  through  which  we  are  constantly  pass- 
ing, so  perhaps  the  Silky  Ammophila  neg- 
lects the  precaution  of  placing  a  stone  over 
a  well  down  which  she  has  to  go  at  least  five 
times  in  a  short  space  of  time. 

In  the  case  of  all  four,  the  provisions  of 
259 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

the  larvae  consist  of  caterpillars  of  Moths. 
The  Silky  Ammophila  selects,  though  not  ex- 
clusively, those  long,  thin  caterpillars  which 
walk  by  looping  and  unlooping  their  bodies. 
Their  gait  suggests  a  pair  of  compasses  that 
makes  its  way  by  opening  and  closing  in 
turns.  Hence  they  are  known  by  two  ex- 
pressive names:  Loopers  and  Measuring- 
worms.1  The  same  burrow  contains  pro- 
visions varying  greatly  in  colour,  a  proof 
that  the  Ammophila  hunts  without  distinc- 
tion every  species  of  Loopers,  provided  that 
they  be  small,  for  the  huntress  herself  is 
anything  but  large  and  her  grub  cannot  get 
through  very  much,  in  spite  of  the  five  pieces 
of  game  set  before  her.  If  Loopers  fail, 
the  Wasp  falls  back  on  other  equally  slender 
caterpillars.  Curved  into  a  hoop  as  the  re- 
sult of  the  sting  that  paralysed  them,  the 
five  pieces  are  stacked  up  in  the  cell:  the  up- 
permost carries  the  egg  for  which  the  pro- 
visions are  made. 

The  three  other  Ammophila?  give  only  one 
caterpillar  to  each  larva.  It  is  true  that 
here  bulk  makes  up  for  number:  the  game 

^he  caterpillars  of  the  Geometrae,  or  Geometric! 
Moths,  are  called  also  Inchworms,  Spanworms  and  Sur- 
veyors.—  Translator's  Note. 

260 


The  Ammophilae 

selected  is  big,  plump,  capable  of  amply 
satisfying  the  grub's  appetite.  For  instance, 
I  have  taken  from  the  mandibles  of  the 
Sandy  Ammophila  a  caterpillar  weighing 
fifteen  times  as  much  as  its  captor:  fifteen 
times,  an  enormous  figure  when  we  consider 
the  strength  which  the  huntress  must  ex- 
pend in  dragging  game  of  this  kind  by  the 
skin  of  the  neck  over  the  countless  obstacles 
on  the  road.  No  other  Wasp,  tried  in  the 
balance  with  her  prey,  has  shown  me  a  like 
disproportion  between  spoiler  and  booty. 

The  almost  indefinite  variety  of  colour- 
ing in  the  provisions  which  I  unearth  from 
the  burrows  or  see  between  the  legs  of  the 
Ammophilae  also  proves  that  the  three  bri- 
gands have  no  preference  and  pounce  upon 
the  first  caterpillar  which  comes  along,  pro- 
vided that  it  be  of  a  suitable  size,  neither  too 
large  nor  too  small,  and  that  it  belongs  to  the 
Moth  division.  The  commonest  game  con- 
sists of  those  grey-clad  caterpillars  which 
penetrate  a  little  way  into  the  ground  and 
devour  the  plant  at  the  junction  of  root  and 
stem. 

What  governs  the  whole  history  of  the 
Ammophilae  and  more  particularly  attracted 
my  attention  is  the  manner  in  which  the  in- 
261 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

sect  overpowers  its  prey  and  reduces  it  to  the 
condition  of  helplessness  which  the  safety  of 
the  larva  requires.  The  game  hunted,  the 
caterpillar,  possesses  a  very  different  struc- 
ture from  that  of  the  victims  which  we  have 
seen  immolated  hitherto:  Buprestes,  Wee- 
vils, Locusts  and  Ephippigers.  The  crea- 
ture is  composed  of  a  series  of  similar  rings 
or  segments  set  end  to  end.  Three  of  these 
segments,  the  first  three,  carry  the  real  legs, 
which  will  become  the  legs  of  the  future 
Moth;  others  have  membranous  legs,  or  pro- 
legs,  which  are  peculiar  to  the  caterpillar 
and  not  represented  in  the  Moth;  others 
lastly  have  no  limbs  at  all.  Each  segment 
has  its  nerve-nucleus,  or  ganglion,  the  seat 
of  sensibility  and  movement,  so  that  the 
nervous  system  includes  twelve  distinct  cen- 
tres, separated  one  from  the  other,  without 
counting  the  ganglionic  neck-piece  placed 
under  the  skull  and  comparable,  in  a  manner 
of  speaking,  with  the  brain. 

We  are  here  very  far  removed  from  the 
nerve-centralization  of  the  Weevils  and  the 
Buprestes,  which  lends  itself  so  well  to  gen- 
eral paralysis  by  a  single  prick  of  the  sting; 
we  are  also  a  long  way  from  the  thoracic 
ganglia  which  the  Sphex  smites,  one  after 
262 


The  Ammophilae 

the  other,  to  suppress  all  movement  in  her 
Crickets.  Instead  of  a  solitary  centralized 
point  or  of  three  nerve-nuclei,  the  cater- 
pillar has  twelve,  separated  from  one  an- 
other by  the  distance  between  one  segment 
and  the  next  and  arranged  like  a  string  of 
beads  on  the  ventral  surface,  along  the  me- 
dian line  of  the  body.  Moreover,  as  is  the 
general  rule  in  the  lower  animals,  where  the 
same  organ  is  repeated  a  great  number  of 
times  and  loses  power  by  its  diffusion,  these 
different  nerve-centres  are  largely  independ- 
ent of  one  another:  each  of  them  exercises 
its  influence  over  its  particular  segment;  and 
its  functions  are  only  very  gradually  affected 
by  the  derangement  of  the  adjoining  seg- 
ments. One  of  the  caterpillar's  rings  can 
lose  its  power  of  moving  and  feeling  and  the 
remainder  will  nevertheless  remain  capable 
of  both  for  a  considerable  time.  These 
facts  are  enough  to  show  the  great  interest 
attaching  to  the  methods  of  slaughter  which 
the  Wasp  adopts  with  her  prey. 

But,  while  the  interest  is  great,  the  diffi- 
culty of  observation  is  not  small.  The  soli- 
tary habits  of  the  Ammophilas,  their  distri- 
bution one  by  one  over  wide  areas,  the  fact 
that  one  almost  always  comes  across  them 
263 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

merely  by  chance:  all  this  makes  it  hardly 
possible  to  carry  out  premeditated  experi- 
ments with  them,  any  more  than  with  the 
Languedocian  Sphex.  You  have  to  be  on 
the  look-out  a  long  time  for  an  opportunity, 
to  wait  for  it  with  untiring  patience  and  to 
know  how  to  profit  by  it  at  the  very  moment 
when  at  last  it  presents  itself,  a  moment  when 
you  were  not  thinking  of  it.  I  watched  for 
that  opportunity  for  years  and  years;  then 
one  day  it  suddenly  appeared  before  my  eyes, 
offering  a  facility  of  examination  and  a  clear- 
ness of  detail  that  compensated  me  for  my 
long  waiting. 

At  the  beginning  of  my  investigations,  I 
was  twice  enabled  to  witness  the  murder  of 
the  caterpillar  and  I  saw,  as  far  as  the  swift- 
ness of  the  operation  permitted,  the  Wasp's 
sting  applied  once  and  for  all  to  either  the 
fifth  or  the  sixth  segment  of  the  victim. 
To  confirm  this  result,  I  thought  of  ascer- 
taining which  ring  had  been  stabbed  on 
caterpillars  which  I  had  not  seen  sacrificed, 
but  which  I  had  taken  from  their  captors 
while  they  were  being  dragged  to  the  bur- 
row. It  was  no  use  employing  a  magnify- 
ing-glass,  for  no  magnify  ing-glass  enables 
one  to  discover  the  least  trace  of  a  wound 
264 


The  Ammophilae 

upon  the  victim.  The  method  adopted  is 
the  following:  when  the  caterpillar  is  quite 
still,  I  try  each  segment  with  the  point  of  a 
fine  needle  and  thus  measure  the  amount  of 
sensibility  by  the  more  or  less  manifest  signs 
of  pain  in  the  insect.  When  the  needle 
pricks  the  fifth  segment  or  the  sixth,  even 
piercing  it  right  through,  the  caterpillar  does 
not  stir.  But  if  you  prick  even  slightly  a 
second  segment,  behind  or  in  front  of  that 
insensible  segment,  the  caterpillar  wriggles 
and  struggles  with  a  violence  which  increases 
in  proportion  to  the  distance  of  the  point 
attacked  from  the  original  segment.  At  the 
hinder  end  in  particular,  the  least  touch  pro- 
vokes wild  contortions.  There  was  only  one 
sting,  therefore,  and  it  was  administered  to 
the  fifth  or  sixth  ring. 

What  peculiarity  then  do  these  two  seg- 
ments possess  that  one  or  other  of  them 
should  be  the  target  of  the  assassin's  weapon? 
None  whatever  in  their  organization;  but 
their  position  is  another  matter.  Leaving 
the  Silky  Ammophila's  Measuring-worms  on 
one  side,  I  find  that  the  prey  of  the  others 
is  organized  as  follows,  the  head  being 
counted  as  the  first  segment:  three  pairs  of 
real  legs  on  the  second,  third  and  fourth 
265 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

rings;  four  pairs  of  membranous  legs  on  the 
seventh,  eighth,  ninth  and  tenth  rings;  lastly, 
a  final  pair  of  membranous  legs  on  the  thir- 
teenth and  last  ring,  making  in  all  eight  pairs 
of  legs,  of  which  the  first  seven  form  two 
vigorous  groups,  one  of  three,  the  other  of 
four  pairs.  These  two  groups  are  separ- 
ated by  two  legless  segments,  which  are  pre- 
cisely the  fifth  and  sixth. 

Now,  in  order  to  deprive  the  caterpillar 
of  its  means  of  escape,  to  render  it  motion- 
less, will  the  Wasp  drive  her  sting  into 
each  of  the  eight  rings  provided  with  loco- 
motory  organs?  Above  all,  will  she  take 
this  superfluity  of  precaution  when  the  prey 
is  quite  weak  and  small?  Certainly  not:  a 
single  stab  will  be  enough;  but  it  will  be 
given  at  a  central  point,  whence  the  torpor 
produced  by  the  tiny  drop  of  poison  can 
spread  gradually,  with  the  least  possible  de- 
lay, to  the  segments  furnished  with  legs. 
There  is  no  doubt  about  the  segment  to  be 
picked  out  for  this  single  inoculation :  it  must 
be  the  fifth  or  the  sixth,  which  separate  the 
two  groups  of  locomotory  rings.  The  point 
indicated  by  rational  inferences  is  therefore 
also  the  point  adopted  by  instinct. 

Lastly,  let  us  add  that  the  Ammophila's 
266 


The  Ammophilae 

egg  is  invariably  laid  on  the  ring  that  has 
been  rendered  insensible.  Here  and  here 
alone  the  young  larva  can  bite  without  pro- 
voking dangerous  contortions;  where  a 
needle-prick  has  no  effect,  the  grub's  bite  will 
have  no  effect  either.  The  grub  will  thus 
remain  motionless  until  the  nurseling  has 
gained  strength  and  can  forge  ahead  with- 
out running  a  risk. 

In  my  later  researches,  as  the  number  of 
my  observations  increased,  I  began  to  enter- 
tain doubts,  not  as  to  the  conclusions  which 
I  had  formed,  but  as  to  their  general  appli- 
cation. That  feeble  Loopers  and  other 
small  caterpillars  are  rendered  harmless  by 
a  single  thrust,  especially  when  the  sting 
strikes  the  favourable  spot  described,  is  a 
thing  quite  probable  in  itself  and  one  which 
can  also  be  proved  either  by  direct  observa- 
tion or  by  testing  the  insect's  sensibility  with 
a  needle.  But  the  Sandy  Ammophila  and 
especially  the  Hairy  Ammophila  capture 
enormous  victims,  whose  weight,  as  I  have 
said,  is  fifteen  times  that  of  the  kidnapper. 
Will  this  giant  prey  be  treated  in  the  same 
manner  as  the  frail  Measuring-worm?  Will 
one  dagger-thrust  be  sufficient  to  subdue  the 
monster  and  render  it  incapable  of  doing 
267 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

harm?  Will  the  horrid  Grey  Worm,  lash- 
ing the  walls  of  the  cell  with  its  powerful 
tail,  not  endanger  either  the  egg  or  the  little 
grub?  We  dare  not  picture  the  encounter, 
in  the  narrow  cell  of  the  burrow,  between 
those  two,  the  feeble,  new-hatched  creature 
and  that  dragony  thing  still  possessing  free- 
dom in  its  movements  to  twist  and  untwist 
its  tortuous  coils. 

My  suspicions  were  confirmed  by  an  ex- 
amination of  the  caterpillar  from  the  point 
of  view  of  sensibility.  Whereas  the  small 
game  of  the  Silky  Ammophila  and  the  Sil- 
very Ammophila  struggle  violently  if  the 
needle  touches  them  elsewhere  than  in  the 
ring  stung  by  the  Wasp,  the  big  caterpillars 
of  the  Sandy  Ammophila  and  especially  of 
the  Hairy  Ammophila  remain  motionless,  no 
matter  which  segment  we  prick.  With 
them  there  are  no  contortions,  no  sudden 
twists  of  the  hinder  parts;  the  steel  point 
produces  no  sign  of  a  remnant  of  sensibility 
beyond  a  faint  quivering  of  the  skin.  The 
power  of  moving  and  feeling  is  therefore 
almost  wholly  abolished,  as  it  needs  must  be 
if  the  grub  is  to  feed  in  safety  on  this  mon- 
strous prey.  Before  placing  it  in  the  bur- 
268 


The  Ammophilae 

row,  the  Wasp  has  turned  it  into  an  inert 
though  still  living  mass. 

I  have  been  permitted  to  watch  the  Am- 
mophila  operating  with  her  scalpel  on  the 
sturdy  caterpillar  and  never  did  the  intuitive 
science  of  instinct  show  me  anything  more 
exciting.  With  a  friend  —  soon,  alas,  to  be 
snatched  from  me  by  death !  —  I  was  coming 
back  from  the  plateau  of  Les  Angles  to  lay 
snares  for  the  Sacred  Beetle  and  put  his 
skill  to  the  test,  when  we  caught  sight  of  a 
Hairy  Ammophila  very  busily  employed  at 
the  foot  of  a  tuft  of  thyme.  We  at  once 
lay  down  on  the  ground,  close  to  where  she 
was  working.  Our  presence  did  not  frighten 
the  Wasp;  in  fact,  she  came  and  settled  on 
my  sleeve  for  a  moment,  decided  that  her 
two  visitors  were  harmless,  since  they  did 
not  move,  and  returned  to  her  tuft  of  thyme. 
As  an  old  stager,  I  knew  what  that  daring 
familiarity  meant:  the  Wasp's  attention  was 
occupied  with  a  serious  business.  We  would 
wait  and  see. 

The  Ammophila  scratched  the  ground  at 

the  foot  of  the  plant,  at  the  junction  of  root 

and  stem,   pulled  up   slender  grass  rootlets 

and  poked  her  head  under  the  little  clods 

269 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

which  she  had  lifted.  She  ran  hurriedly 
this  way  and  that  around  the  thyme,  inspect- 
ing every  crevice  that  could  give  access  to 
what  lay  below.  She  was  not  digging  her- 
self a  home  but  hunting  some  game  hidden 
underground;  this  was  evident  from  her  be- 
haviour, which  resembled  that  of  a  Dog 
trying  to  dig  a  Rabbit  out  of  his  hole.  Pre- 
sently, excited  by  what  was  happening  over- 
head and  close-pressed  by  the  Ammophila, 
a  big  Grey  Worm  made  up  his  mind  to  leave 
his  lair  and  come  up  to  the  light  of  day. 
That  settled  him:  the  huntress  was  on  the 
spot  at  once,  gripping  him  by  the  skin  of  his 
neck  and  holding  tight  in  spite  of  his  con- 
tortions. Perched  on  the  monster's  back, 
the  Wasp  bent  her  abdomen  and  deliberately, 
without  hurrying,  like  a  surgeon  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  his  patient's  anatomy,  drove 
her  lancet  into  the  ventral  surface  of  each 
of  the  victim's  segments,  from  the  first  to  the 
last.  Not  a  ring  was  left  without  receiv- 
ing a  stab;  all,  whether  with  legs  or  without, 
were  dealt  with  in  order,  from  front  to  back. 
That  is  what  I  saw  with  all  the  leisure  and 
ease  that  an  observation  needs  in  order  to 
be  above  reproach.  The  Wasp  acts  with  a 
precision  that  would  make  science  turn  green 
270 


The  Ammophilae 

with  envy;  she  knows  what  man  hardly  ever 
knows;  she  knows  her  victim's  complex  ner- 
vous system  and  reserves  her  successive 
dagger-thrusts  for  the  successive  ganglia  of 
her  caterpillar.  I  said,  she  knows;  what  I 
should  say  is,  she  behaves  as  though  she 
knew.  Her  act  is  simple  inspiration.  Ani- 
mals obey  their  compelling  instinct,  without 
realizing  what  they  do.  But  whence  comes 
that  sublime  inspiration?  Can  theories  of 
atavism,  of  natural  selection,  of  the  strug- 
gle for  life  interpret  it  reasonably?  To  me 
and  my  friend,  this  was  and  remained  one 
of  the  most  eloquent  revelations  of  the  un- 
utterable logic  that  rules  the  world  and 
guides  the  ignorant  by  the  laws  of  its  in- 
spiration. Stirred  to  our  innermost  being  by 
this  flash  of  truth,  both  of  us  felt  tears  of 
undefinable  emotion  spring  to  our  eyes. 


271 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE   BEMBEX 

ONE  of  my  favourite  spots  for  the  ob- 
servations which  I  will  now  describe  is 
not  far  from  Avignon,  on  the  right  bank  of 
the  Rhone,  opposite  the  mouth  of  the  Du- 
rance. It  is  the  Bois  des  Issarts.  Let  not 
the  reader  mistake  the  value  of  this  word 
hois,  which  usually  suggests  a  carpet  of  cool 
moss  and  the  shade  of  tall  trees,  with  a  dim 
light  filtering  through  the  leaves.  The 
scorched  plains  where  the  Cicada  grates  out 
his  ditty  on  the  pale  olive-tree  know  none 
of  these  delicious  retreats  filled  with  cool 
shadow. 

The  Bois  des  Issarts  is  a  coppice  of  holm- 
oaks,  no  higher  than  one's  head  and  spar- 
ingly distributed  in  scanty  clumps  which,  even 
at  their  feet,  hardly  temper  the  force  of  the 
sun's  rays.  When  I  used  to  settle  myself 
in  some  part  of  the  coppice  suitable  for  my 
observations,  on  certain  afternoons  in  the 
dog-days  of  July  and  August,  I  had  the  shel- 
ter of  a  large  umbrella,  which  later,  in  the 
272 


The  Bembex 

most  unexpected  fashion,  lent  me  a  very  pre- 
cious aid  of  a  different  kind,  as  my  story 
will  show  in  good  time.  If  I  neglected  to 
furnish  myself  with  this  embarrassing  ad- 
junct to  a  long  walk,  my  only  resource 
against  sunstroke  was  to  lie  down  at  full 
length  behind  some  sandy  knoll;  and,  when 
the  veins  in  my  temples  were  throbbing  to 
bursting  point,  my  last  hope  lay  in  putting 
my  head  down  a  Rabbit-burrow.  Such  are 
one's  means  of  keeping  cool  in  the  Bois  des 
Issarts. 

The  soil  not  occupied  by  those  clumps  of 
woody  vegetation  is  almost  bare  and  con- 
sists of  fine,  dry,  very  loose  sand,  which  the 
wind  heaps  into  little  dunes  wherever  the 
stems  and  roots  of  the  holm-oak  interfere 
with  its  dissemination.  The  sides  of  these 
sand-dunes  are  generally  very  smooth,  be- 
cause of  the  extreme  lightness  of  the  ma- 
terials, which  slide  down  into  the  smallest 
depression  and  of  their  own  accord  restore 
the  evenness  of  the  surface.  You  need  but 
push  your  finger  into  the  sand  and  take  it 
out  again  to  bring  about  an  immediate  land- 
slip which  fills  up  the  hole  and  restores 
things  to  their  original  condition  without 
leaving  a  visible  trace.  But,  at  a  certain 
273 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

depth,  which  varies  according  to  the  more 
or  less  recent  date  of  the  last  rains,  the  sand 
retains  a  lingering  dampness  which  keeps  it 
in  its  place  and  gives  it  a  consistency  that 
enables  it  to  have  small  excavations  made  in 
it  without  a  subsequent  collapse  of  walls  and 
roof.  A  blazing  sun,  a  gloriously  blue  sky, 
sandy  slopes  that  yield  without  the  least  dif- 
ficulty to  the  strokes  of  the  Wasp's  rake, 
game  galore  for  the  grub's  food,  a  peaceful 
site  hardly  ever  disturbed  by  the  foot  of 
man:  all  the  good  things  are  combined  in 
this  Bembex  paradise.  Let  us  watch  the  in- 
dustrious insect  at  work. 

If  the  reader  will  sit  with  me  under  the 
umbrella  or  consent  to  share  my  Rabbit-bur- 
row, this  is  the  sight  which  he  is  invited  to 
behold,  at  the  end  of  July:  a  Bembex  (B. 
rostrata)  arrives  suddenly,  I  know  not 
whence,  and  alights,  without  preliminary  in- 
vestigations or  the  least  hesitation,  at  a  spot 
which  to  my  eyes  differs  in  no  respect  from 
the  rest  of  the  sandy  surface.  With  her 
fore-tarsi,  which  are  armed  with  rows  of 
stiff  hairs  and  suggest  at  the  same  time  a 
broom,  a  brush  and  a  rake,  she  works  at 
clearing  her  subterranean  dwelling.  The  in- 
sect stands  on  its  four  hind-legs,  holding  the 
274 


The  Bembex 

two  at  the  back  a  little  wide  apart,  while  the 
front  ones  alternately  scratch  and  sweep  the 
shifting  sand.  The  precision  and  quick- 
ness of  the  performance  could  not  be  greater 
if  the  circular  movement  of  the  tarsi  were 
worked  by  a  spring.  The  sand,  shot  back- 
wards under  the  abdomen,  passes  through 
the  arch  of  the  hind-legs,  gushes  like  a  fluid 
in  a  continuous  stream,  describes  its  para- 
bola and  falls  to  the  ground  some  seven  or 
eight  inches  away.  This  spray  of  dust, 
kept  up  evenly  for  five  or  ten  minutes  at  a 
time,  is  enough  to  show  the  dazzling  rapid- 
ity of  the  tools  employed.  I  know  no  other 
example  of  this  swiftness,  which  neverthe- 
less in  no  way  detracts  from  the  easy  grace 
and  the  free  movement  of  the  insect,  as  it 
advances  and  retires  first  on  this  side,  then 
on  that,  without  discontinuing  its  parabolic 
streams  of  sand. 

The  soil  excavated  is  of  the  lightest  kind. 
As  the  Wasp  digs,  the  sand  near  by  slips 
back  and  fills  the  cavity.  Amongst  the  rub- 
bish that  falls  are  tiny  bits  of  wood,  decayed 
leaf-stalks  and  particles  of  grit  larger  than 
the  rest.  The  Bembex  takes  them  up  in  her 
mandibles  and  carries  them  away,  moving 
backwards  as  she  goes;  then  she  returns  to 
275 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

her  sweeping,  but  never  going  to  any  depth 
and  making  no  attempt  to  bury  herself  un- 
derground. What  is  her  object  in  thus  la- 
bouring entirely  on  the  surface?  It  would 
be  impossible  to  tell  from  this  first  glance; 
but,  after  spending  many  days  with  my  be- 
loved Wasps  and  grouping  together  the  scat- 
tered facts  resulting  from  my  observations, 
I  seem  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  reason  for 
the  present  proceedings. 

The  Wasp's  nest  is  certainly  there,  a  few 
inches  below  the  ground;  in  a  little  cell  dug 
in  the  cool,  firm  sand  lies  an  egg,  perhaps 
a  grub  for  which  the  mother  caters  from 
day  to  day,  bringing  it  Flies,  the  unvarying 
food  of  the  Bembex  in  their  first  state.  The 
mother  has  to  be  able  at  any  moment  to 
enter  the  nest,  as  she  flies  up  carrying  in  her 
legs  the  nurseling's  daily  portion  of  game, 
even  as  the  bird  of  prey  enters  its  eyrie  with 
the  food  for  its  young  in  its  talons.  But. 
while  the  bird  returns  to  a  home  on  some 
inaccessible  ledge  of  rock,  with  no  difficulty 
to  overcome  but  that  of  the  weight  and  en- 
cumbrance of  the  captured  prey,  the  Bembex 
has  each  time  to  undertake  rough  miner's 
work  and  open  up  anew  a  gallery  blocked 
and  closed  by  the  mere  fact  that  the  sand 
276 


The  Bembex 

gives  way  as  the  insect  proceeds.  In  that 
underground  dwelling,  the  only  room  with 
steady  walls  is  the  spacious  cell  where  the 
larva  lives  amid  the  remnants  of  its  fort- 
night's feast;  the  narrow  corridor  which  the 
mother  enters  to  reach  the  flat  at  the  back 
or  to  come  out  and  go  hunting  collapses  each 
time,  at  least  in  the  front  part  dug  out  of 
very  dry  sand,  which  repeated  exits  and  en- 
trances make  looser  still.  Each  time  there- 
fore that  the  Wasp  goes  in  or  out,  she  has 
to  clear  herself  a  passage  through  the  debris. 
Going  out  presents  no  difficulty,  even 
should  the  sand  retain  the  consistency  which 
it  might  have  at  the  start,  when  first  dis- 
turbed: the  insect's  movements  are  free,  it 
is  safe  under  cover,  it  can  take  its  time  and 
use  its  tarsi  and  mandibles  without  undue 
hurry.  Going  in  is  a  very  different  matter. 
The  Bembex  is  hampered  by  her  prey,  which 
her  legs  hold  clasped  to  her  body;  and  the 
miner  is  thus  deprived  of  the  free  use  of  her 
tools.  And  a  still  graver  circumstance  is 
this:  brazen  parasites,  veritable  bandits  in 
ambush,  crouch  here  and  there  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  burrow,  spying  on  the 
mother  Wasp  as  she  makes  her  laborious  en- 
trance, so  that  they  may  rush  in  and  lay 
277 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

their  egg  on  the  piece  of  game  at  the  very 
moment  when  it  is  about  to  disappear  down 
the  corridor.  If  they  succeed,  the  Wasp's 
nurseling,  the  son  of  the  house,  will  perish, 
starved  by  its  gluttonous  fellow-boarders. 

The  Bembex  seems  aware  of  these  dan- 
gers and  makes  arrangements  for  her  en- 
trance to  be  effected  swiftly,  without  serious 
obstacles,  in  short,  for  the  sand  blocking  the 
door  to  yield  to  a  mere  push  of  her  head, 
aided  by  a  brisk  sweep  of  her  front  tarsi. 
With  this  object,  the  materials  at  the  ap- 
proaches to  the  home  are  subjected  to  a  sort 
of  sifting.  At  leisure  moments,  under  a 
kindly  sun,  when  the  larva  has  its  food  and 
does  not  need  her  attentions,  the  mother 
rakes  the  ground  in  front  of  her  door;  she 
removes  little  bits  of  wood,  any  extra-large 
particles  of  gravel,  any  leaves  that  might  get 
in  the  way  and  bar  her  passage  at  the  danger- 
ous moment  of  her  return.  The  Bembex 
whom  we  have  just  seen  so  zealously  em- 
ployed was  busy  at  this  work  of  sifting:  to 
facilitate  the  access  to  her  home,  the  materi- 
als of  the  corridor  have  to  be  dug  up,  care- 
fully sorted  and  rid  of  anything  likely  to 
obstruct  the  road.  Who  indeed  can  tell 
whether,  by  that  nimble  eagerness,  that  joy- 
278 


The  Bembex 

ous  activity,  the  insect  is  not  expressing  in  its 
own  way  its  maternal  satisfaction,  its  hap- 
piness in  watching  over  the  roof  of  the  cell  to 
which  the  precious  egg  has  been  entrusted? 
As  the  Wasp  is  confining  herself  to  her  du- 
ties outside  the  house,  without  trying  to  pen- 
etrate into  the  sand,  everything  must  be  in 
order  inside  and  there  is  no  hurry  about  any- 
thing. We  should  only  wait  in  vain:  the 
insect  would  tell  us  nothing  more  for  the  time 
being.  Let  us  therefore  examine  the  under- 
ground dwelling.  If  we  scrape  the  dune 
lightly  with  the  blade  of  a  knife  at  the  point 
where  the  Bembex  was  busiest,  we  soon  dis- 
cover the  entrance-corridor,  which,  though 
blocked  for  part  of  the  way  down,  is  never- 
theless recognizable  by  the  distinctive  ap- 
pearance of  the  materials  moved.  This 
passage,  which  is  as  wide  as  one's  finger  and 
straight  or  winding,  longer  or  shorter  accord- 
ing to  the  nature  and  the  accidents  of  the 
ground,  measures  eight  to  twelve  inches.  It 
leads  to  a  single  chamber,  hollowed  in  the 
damp  sand,  whose  walls  are  not  coated  with 
any  kind  of  mortar  likely  to  prevent  a  subsi- 
dence or  to  lend  a  polish  to  the  rough  surface. 
The  ceiling  will  do,  if  it  can  hold  out  while 
the  larva  is  growing  up;  it  does  not  matter 
279 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

what  falls  in  afterwards,  when  the  larva  is 
enclosed  in  its  stout  cocoon,  a  sort  of  safe 
which  we  shall  see  it  building.  The  work- 
manship of  the  cell,  therefore,  is  very  rustic: 
the  whole  thing  is  reduced  to  a  rough  excava- 
tion, of  no  definite  shape,  with  a  low  roof  and 
space  enough  to  contain  two  or  three  wal- 
nuts. 

In  this  retreat  lies  a  piece  of  game,  one 
only,  quite  small  and  quite  insufficient  for  the 
greedy  nurseling  which  it  is  meant  to  feed. 
It  is  a  golden-green  Fly,  a  Green-bottle  (Lu- 
cilia  Casar),1  who  lives  on  putrid  flesh. 
The  Fly  served  up  as  food  is  absolutely  mo- 
tionless. Is  she  quite  dead,  or  only  para- 
lysed? This  question  will  be  cleared  up 
later.  For  the  moment,  we  will  note  the 
presence,  on  the  side  of  the  game,  of  a  cylin- 
drical egg,  white,  very  slightly  curved  and  a 
couple  of  millimetres  2  long.  It  is  the  egg  of 
the  Bembex.  As  we  expected  from  the 
mother's  behaviour,  there  is  nothing  urgent 
indoors :  the  egg  is  laid  and  provided  with  a 
first  ration  apportioned  to  the  requirements 
of  the  feeble  grub  which  will  hatch  twenty- 

*Cf.  The  Life  of  the  Fly,  by  J.  Henri  Fabre,  translated 
by  Alexander  Teixeira  de  Mattos:  chap.  ix. — Trans- 
lator's Note. 

2About  .08  inch. —  Translator's  Note. 
280 


The  Bembex 

four  hours  hence.  The  Bembex  had  no  need 
to  reenter  the  underground  passage  for  some 
time  and  was  confining  herself  to  keeping  a 
good  look-out  all  round,  or  perhaps  to  dig- 
ging fresh  burrows  and  continuing  to  lay  her 
eggs,  one  by  one,  eacli  in  a  cell  to  itself. 

This  peculiarity  of  beginning  the  pro- 
visioning with  a  single  head  of  small  game 
is  not  confined  to  the  Rostrate  Bembex.  All 
the  other  species  do  the  same  thing.  If  we 
open  the  cell  of  any  Bembex  shortly  after  the 
egg  is  laid,  we  shall  always  find  the  tiny  cyl- 
inder glued  to  the  side  of  a  Fly,  who  consti- 
tutes the  entire  provision;  moreover,  this  in- 
itial ration  is  invariably  small,  as  though  the 
mother  went  in  search  of  the  tenderest  mouth- 
fuls  for  the  feeble  nurseling.  Besides,  an- 
other reason,  the  abiding  freshness  of  the 
food,  might  easily  prompt  her  to  make  this 
choice.  We  will  look  into  that  later.  This 
first  portion,  always  a  scanty  one,  varies 
greatly  in  nature,  according  to  the  frequency 
of  this  or  that  kind  of  game  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  the  nest.  It  is  sometimes  a  Green- 
bottle,  sometimes  a  Stomoxys,  or  some  small 
Eristalis,  sometimes  a  dainty  Bee-fly  clad  in 
black  velvet;  but  the  most  usual  dish  is  a  slim- 
bellied  Sphaerophoria. 
281 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

This  general  fact,  to  which  there  is  no  ex- 
ception, of  the  victualling  of  the  egg  with  a 
single  Fly,  a  ration  infinitely  too  small  for  a 
larva  blessed  with  a  voracious  appetite,  at 
once  puts  us  on  the  track  of  the  most  remark- 
able habit  of  the  Bembex.  Wasps  whose  lar- 
vae live  on  prey  heap  up  in  each  cell  the  num- 
ber of  victims  necessary  for  the  rearing  of 
the  grub;  they  lay  the  egg  on  one  of  the  bod- 
ies and  close  the  dwelling,  which  they  do  not 
enter  again.  From  that  moment,  the  larva 
hatches  and  develops  alone,  having  before  it 
from  the  very  beginning  the  whole  stock  of 
provisions  which  it  is  to  consume.  The  Bem- 
bex form  an  exception  to  this  rule.  The  cell 
is  first  stocked  with  a  single  head  of  game, 
always  small  in  size,  and  the  egg  is  laid  on 
it.  When  that  is  done,  the  mother  leaves 
the  burrow,  which  closes  of  itself;  besides, 
before  going  away,  the  insect  is  careful  to 
rake  over  the  outside,  so  as  to  smooth  the 
surface  and  hide  the  entrance  from  any  eye 
but  her  own. 

Two  or  three  days  elapse;  the  egg  hatches 
and  the  little  larva  eats  up  the  choice  ration 
served  to  it.  Meanwhile  the  mother  remains 
in  the  neighbourhood  and  you  see  her  some- 
times feeding  herself  by  sipping  the  sugary 


The  Bembex 

exudations  of  the  field  eringo,  sometimes  set- 
tling happily  on  the  burning  sand,  no  doubt 
watching  the  outside  of  the  house.  Every 
now  and  again  she  sifts  the  sand  at  the  en- 
trance; then  she  flies  away  and  disappears, 
perhaps  to  dig  other  cells  elsewhere  and  to 
stock  them  in  the  same  way.  But,  however 
long  she  may  stay  away,  she  never  forgets 
the  young  larva  so  scantily  provided  for;  the 
instinct  of  a  mother  tells  her  the  hour  when 
the  grub  has  finished  its  food  and  is  calling 
for  fresh  nourishment.  She  therefore  re- 
turns to  the  nest,  of  which  she  is  wonderfully 
capable  of  discovering  the  invisible  entrance; 
she  goes  down  into  the  earth,  this  time  carry- 
ing a  bulkier  piece  of  game.  After  depos- 
iting her  prey,  she  again  leaves  the  house 
and  waits  outside  till  the  moment  arrives  to 
serve  a  third  course.  This  moment  is  not 
slow  in  coming,  for  the  larva  devours  its 
food  with  a  lusty  appetite.  Again  the 
mother  appears  with  fresh  provisions. 

During  nearly  a  fortnight,  while  the  larva 
is  growing  up,  the  meals  thus  follow  in  suc- 
cession, one  by  one,  as  needed,  and  coming 
closer  together  as  the  nurseling  waxes  big- 
ger. Towards  the  end  of  the  fortnight,  it 
takes  all  the  mother's  activity  to  satisfy  the 
283 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

appetite  of  the  glutton,  who  crawls  heavily 
along,  with  his  great  lumbering  belly,  amid 
the  scorned  leavings:  rejected  wings  and  legs 
and  horny  abdominal  segments.  You  see  her 
at  every  moment  returning  with  a  recent  cap- 
ture, at  every  moment  setting  out  again  upon 
the  chase.  In  short,  the  Bembex  brings  up 
her  family  from  day  to  day,  without  storing 
up  provisions  in  advance,  just  as  the  bird 
does,  which  feeds  its  nestlings  from  hand  to 
mouth.  Of  the  many  proofs  that  are  evi- 
dence of  this  method  of  upbringing,  a  very 
singular  method  for  a  Wasp  who  feeds  her 
offspring  on  prey,  I  have  already  mentioned 
the  presence  of  the  egg  in  a  cell  containing  no 
provisions  but  one  small  Fly,  never  more. 
And  here  is  another  one,  which  can  be  veri- 
fied at  any  time. 

Let  us  look  into  the  burrow  of  a  Wasp  who 
stocks  her  grubs'  provisions  in  advance :  if  we 
select  the  moment  when  the  insect  is  going  in 
with  its  prey,  we  shall  find  in  the  cell  a  cer- 
tain number  of  victims,  the  commencement  of 
a  larder,  but  never  at  that  time  a  grub,  nor 
even  an  egg,  for  this  is  not  laid  until  the  pro- 
visions are  quite  complete.  When  the  egg 
is  laid,  the  cell  is  closed  and  the  mother  does 
not  return  to  it.  It  is  therefore  only  in  bur- 
284 


The  Bembex 

rows  where  the  mother's  visits  are  no  longer 
necessary  that  we  can  find  larvae  side  by  side 
with  larger  or  smaller  stacks  of  food.  On 
the  other  hand,  let  us  inspect  the  home  of  a 
Bembex  at  the  moment  when  she  is  entering 
with  the  fruits  of  her  hunting.  We  are  cer- 
tain of  finding  in  the  cell  a  larva,  big  or  little 
as  the  case  may  be,  among  remnants  of  pro- 
visions already  consumed.  The  portion 
which  the  mother  is  now  bringing  is  therefore 
intended  to  prolong  a  meal  which  has  already 
lasted  several  days  and  which  is  to  continue 
for  some  time  further  with  the  produce  of 
future  hunting-expeditions.  Should  we  be 
fortunate  enough  to  make  this  search  towards 
the  end  of  the  larva's  infancy  —  an  advan- 
tage which  I  have  enjoyed  as  often  as  I 
wished  to  —  we  shall  find,  on  a  copious  heap 
of  remnants,  a  large  and  portly  grub,  to 
which  the  mother  is  still  bringing  fresh  vic- 
tuals. The  Bembex  does  not  cease  her  cater- 
ing and  does  not  leave  the  cell  for  good  until 
the  larva,  distended  by  a  purply  paste,  re- 
fuses its  food  and  lies  down,  stuffed  to  re- 
pletion, on  the  jumble  of  legs  and  wings  of 
the  game  which  it  has  devoured. 

Each  time  that  the  mother  enters  the  bur- 
row on  returning  from  the  chase,  she  brings 
285 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

but  a  single  Fly.  If  it  were  possible,  by 
counting  the  remnants  contained  in  a  cell 
whose  occupant  is  full-grown,  to  tell  the  num- 
ber of  victims  supplied  to  the  larva,  we  should 
know  how  often  at  the  least  the  Wasp  vis- 
ited her  burrow  after  laying  the  egg.  Un- 
fortunately, these  broken  victuals,  chewed 
and  chewed  again  at  moments  of  scarcity, 
are  for  the  most  part  unrecognizable.  But, 
if  we  open  a  cell  with  a  less  forward  nurse- 
ling, the  provisions  lend  themselves  to  exam- 
ination, some  of  them  being  still  whole  or 
nearly  whole,  while  others,  more  numerous, 
are  represented  by  fragments  in  a  state  of 
preservation  that  enables  them  to  be  identi- 
fied. Incomplete  though  it  be,  the  list  ob- 
tained under  these  conditions  is  surprising 
and  shows  what  activity  the  Wasp  must  dis- 
play to  satisfy  the  needs  of  such  a  table.  I 
will  set  forth  one  of  the  bills  of  fare  which 
I  have  observed. 

At  the  end  of  September,  around  the  larva 
of  a  Jules'  Bembex  (Bembex  /M/n),1  which 
has  reached  almost  a  third  of  the  size  which 
it  will  finally  attain,  I  find  the  following  heads 
of  game:  six  Echinomyi*  rubescens  (two 

1For  a  description  of  this  new  species,  see  the  Appen- 
dix to  the  present  volume. —  Author's  ffott, 

286 


The  Bembex 

whole  and  four  in  pieces) ;  four  Syrphus  co- 
rolla (two  complete,  the  other  two  broken 
up)  ;  three  Gonia  atra  (all  three  untouched: 
one  of  them  had  that  moment  been  brought 
along  by  the  mother,  which  led  to  my  discov- 
ering the  burrow)  ;  two  Pollenia  rufescens 
(one  untouched,  the  other  partly  eaten)  ;  one 
Bombylius  (reduced  to  pulp)  ;  two  Echino- 
myia  intermedia  (in  bits)  ;  and  two  Pollenia 
floralis  (likewise  in  bits)  :  twenty  pieces  in 
all.  This  certainly  makes  a  both  plentiful 
and  varied  bill  of  fare;  but,  as  the  larva  was 
only  a  third  of  its  ultimate  size,  the  complete 
menu  might  easily  number  as  many  as  sixty 
items. 

It  is  not  at  all  difficult  to  verify  this  sump- 
tuous figure:  I  will  myself  take  the  place  of 
the  Bembex  in  her  maternal  functions  and 
supply  the  larva  with  food  till  it  is  ready  to 
burst.  I  move  the  cell  into  a  little  cardboard 
box  which  I  furnish  with  a  layer  of  sand.  I 
place  the  larva  on  this  bed,  with  all  due  con- 
sideration for  its  delicate  skin.  Around  it, 
without  omitting  a  single  fragment,  I  ar- 
range the  provisions  with  which  it  was  sup- 
plied. Then  I  go  home,  still  holding  the  box 
in  my  hand,  to  avoid  any  shaking  which 
might  turn  the  house  upside  down  and  en- 
287 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

danger  my  charge  during  a  walk  of  several 
miles.  Any  one  who  had  met  me  on  the 
dusty  Nimes  Road,  dropping  with  fatigue 
and  religiously  carrying  in  my  hand,  as  the 
sole  fruit  of  my  laborious  trip,  an  ugly  grub 
battening  on  a  heap  of  Flies,  would  certainly 
have  smiled  at  my  simplicity. 

The  journey  was  effected  without  damage: 
when  I  reached  home,  the  larva  was  placidly 
eating  its  Flies  as  though  nothing  had  hap- 
pened. On  the  third  day  of  captivity,  the 
provisions  taken  from  the  burrow  were  fin- 
ished; the  grub  was  rummaging  with  its 
pointed  mouth  among  the  heap  of  remains 
without  finding  anything  to  suit  it;  the  dry 
particles  taken  hold  of,  all  horny,  juiceless 
bits,  were  rejected  with  disgust.  The  mo- 
ment has  come  for  me  to  continue  the  food 
supply.  The  first  Flies  within  reach  shall 
form  my  prisoner's  diet.  I  kill  them  by 
pressing  them  in  my  fingers,  but  without 
crushing  them.  The  first  ration  consists  of 
three  Eris tails  tenax  and  one  Sarcophaga.1 
This  is  all  gobbled  up  in  twenty-four  hours. 
Next  day,  I  provide  two  Eristales,  or  Drone- 
flies,  and  four  House-flies.  It  was  enough 

'Or  Flesh-fly.  Cf.  The  Life  of  the  Fly:  chap,  x.— 
Translator's  Note. 

288 


The  Bembex 

for  the  day,  but  left  nothing  over.  I  went 
on  like  this  for  eight  days,  giving  the  grub  a 
larger  portion  every  morning.  On  the  ninth 
day,  the  larva  refused  all  food  and  began  to 
spin  its  cocoon.  The  full  record  of  this 
eight  days'  feast  amounts  to  sixty-two  pieces, 
composed  mainly  of  Drone-flies  and  House- 
flies,  which,  added  to  the  twenty  items  found 
whole  or  in  pieces  in  the  cell  brings  up  the 
total  to  eighty-two. 

It  is  possible  that  I  did  not  rear  my  larva 
with  the  wholesome  frugality  and  the  wise 
economy  which  the  mother  would  have 
shown ;  there  was  perhaps  some  waste  in  the 
daily  provisions  served  all  at  one  time  and 
left  entirely  to  the  grub's  discretion.  In 
some  respects  I  feel  inclined  to  believe  that 
things  do  not  happen  just  like  that  in  the  ma- 
ternal cell,  for  my  notes  contain  such  details 
as  the  following.  In  the  alluvial  sands  of 
the  Durance,  I  discover  a  burrow  which  the 
Wasp  (Bembex  oculata}  has  just  entered 
with  a  Sarcophaga  agricola.  Inside,  I  find  a 
larva,  numerous  fragments  and  a  few  whole 
Flies,  namely,  four  Sphterophoria  scripta, 
one  Onesia  viarum  and  two  Sarcophaga 
agricola,  including  the  one  which  the  Bembex 
has  just  brought  along  before  my  eyes.  Now 
289 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

it  is  worthy  of  remark  that  half  of  this  game, 
namely,  the  Sphaerophoriae,  is  right  at  the  end 
of  the  cell,  under  the  larva's  very  teeth, 
whereas  the  other  half  is  still  in  the  passage, 
on  the  threshold  of  the  cell,  and  therefore 
beyond  the  reach  of  the  grub,  which  is  unable 
to  change  its  position.  It  seems  to  me  then 
that,  when  game  is  plentiful,  the  mother  lays 
her  captures  on  the  threshold  of  the  cell  for 
the  time  and  forms  a  reserve  on  which  she 
draws  as  and  when  necessary,  especially  on 
rainy  days  when  all  labour  is  at  a  stand- 
still. 

Thus  practised  with  economy,  the  distribu- 
tion of  food  would  save  a  waste  which  I 
was  not  able  to  prevent  with  my  larva, 
treated  I  daresay  too  sumptuously.  I  there- 
fore lower  the  figure  obtained  and  reduce  it  to 
some  sixty  pieces,  of  middling  size,  between 
that  of  the  House-fly  and  of  the  Eristalis 
tentx.  This  would  about  represent  the  num- 
ber of  Flies  supplied  by  the  mother  to  the 
larva  when  the  prey  is  of  a  moderate  size,  as 
is  the  case  with  all  the  Bembex  of  my  dis- 
trict except  the  Rostrate  Bembex  (B.  ros- 
trata)  and  the  Two-pronged  Bembex  (B.  bi- 
dentata) ,  who  have  a  preference  for  Gad- 
flies. With  them,  the  number  of  victims 
290 


The  Bembex 

would  be  from  one  to  two  dozen,  according 
to  the  size  of  the  Fly,  which  varies  greatly 
in  the  different  species  of  Gad-flies. 

To  avoid  reopening  this  question  of  the 
nature  of  the  provisions,  I  will  here  give  a 
list  of  the  Flies  observed  in  the  burrows  of 
the  six  species  of  Bembex  that  form  the  sub- 
ject of  this  essay. 

1.  Bembex  olivacea,  Rossi.     I  only  once 
saw  this  species,   at   Cavaillon,   feeding  on 
Greenbottles.     The    five    other   species    are 
common  in  the  Avignon  neighbourhood. 

2.  Bembex  oculata,  JUR.     The  Fly  carry- 
ing the  egg  is  most  often  a  Sphaerophoria, 
especially  S.  scripta;  sometimes  it  is  a  Geron 
gibbosus.     The  later  provisions  include  Sto- 
moxys  calcitrans,  Pollenia  ruficollis,  P.  rudis, 
Pipiza  nigripes,  Syrphus  corolla,  Onesia  vi- 
arum,  Calliphora  vomitoria,1  Echinomyia  in- 
termedia,  Sarcophaga,   agricola   and  Musca 
domestica.2     The    usual     fare    consists    of 
Stomoxys  calcitrans,  of  which  I  have  many  a 
time  found  fifty  or  sixty  in  a  single  burrow. 

3.  Bembex  tarsata,  LAT.     This  one  also 
lays  her  egg  on  Sphaerophoria  scripta.     She 
next  hunts :  Anthrax  flava,  Bombylius  nitidu- 

iThe  Bluebottle. —  Translator's  Note. 
2The  Common  House-fly. —  Translator's  Note. 
291 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

lus,  Eris tails  aneus,  E.  sepulchralis,  Merodon 
spinipes,  Syrphus  corolla,  Helophilus  trivit- 
tatus  and  Zodion  notatum.  Her  favourite 
game  consists  of  Bombylii,  or  Bee-flies,  and 
Anthrax-flies.1 

4.  Bembex  Julii  (sp.  nov.).     The  egg  is 
laid  on  a   Sphserophoria   or  on  a  Pollenia 
floralis.     The  provisions  are  a  hotchpotch  of 
Syrphus   corolla,   Echinomyia  rubescens,  E. 
intermedia,  Gonia  atra,  Pollenia  floralls,  P. 
ruficollis,    Clytla    pellucens,    Lucilia    Casar, 
Dexla  rustlca  and  Bombyllus. 

5.  Bembex  rostrata,   FAB.     This  is  pre- 
eminently a  consumer  of  Gad-flies.     She  lays 
her  egg  on  a  Syrphus  corolla  or  a  Lucilia 
Casar,  after  which  she  feeds  her  larva  ex- 
clusively on  big  game  belonging  to  the  various 
species  of  the  genus  Tab&nus. 

6.  Bembex  bidentata,  V.  L.     Another  ar- 
dent huntress  of  Gad-flies.     I   have  never 
seen  her  pursue  other  game  and  I  do  not 
know  on  what  Fly  the  egg  is  laid. 

This  great  variety  of  provisions  shows 
that  the  Bembex  have  no  exclusive  tastes  and 
fall  upon  any  species  of  Flies,  indifferently, 
which  the  hazards  of  the  chase  place  within 

*Cf.   The  Life  of  the  Fly:  chaps,  ii  and  iv. —  Trans- 
lator's  Note. 

292 


The  Bembex 

their  reach.  They  seem  nevertheless  to  en- 
tertain a  few  preferences.  Thus  one  species 
feeds  more  particularly  on  Bee-flies,  a  second 
on  Stomoxys-flies,  a  third  and  a  fourth  on 
Gad-flies. 


293 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  FLY-HUNT 

A  FTER  our  list,  in  the  last  chapter,  of  the 
•**•  fare  on  which  the  Bembex  feed  in  the 
larval  form,  it  behoves  us  to  seek  the  motive 
that  induces  these  Wasps  to  adopt  a  method 
of  victualling  so  exceptional  among  the  dig- 
ger-insects. Why,  instead  of  previously  stor- 
ing a  sufficient  quantity  of  provisions  on 
which  the  egg  could  be  laid  —  which  would 
enable  the  mother  to  close  the  cell  immedi- 
ately afterwards  and  never  to  return  to  it  — 
why,  I  ask,  does  she  tie  herself  down  for  a 
fortnight  to  this  incessant,  toilsome  coming 
and  going  from  the  burrow  to  the  fields  and 
from  the  fields  to  the  burrow,  forcing  her  way 
each  time  through  the  unstable  sand,  either 
to  go  hunting  or  to  bring  the  larva  her  latest 
capture?  It  is,  first  and  foremost,  a  ques- 
tion of  having  fresh  victuals  for  her  larvae: 
an  all-important  question,  for  the  grub  abso- 
lutely refuses  any  high  or  tainted  game.  Like 
the  grubs  of  the  other  Diggers,  it  wants  fresh 
meat  and  nothing  but  fresh  meat. 

We  have  seen  in  the  case  of  the  Cerceres, 
294 


The  Fly-hunt 

the  Sphex  and  the  Ammophilae  how  the 
mother  solves  the  problem  of  preserved  food- 
stuffs, the  problem  of  stocking  a  cell  with  the 
requisite  quantity  of  game  for  its  future  oc- 
cupants and  keeping  the  meat  fresh  for  whole 
weeks  at  a  time ;  indeed,  it  is  something  more 
than  fresh,  for  the  victims  are  kept  in  an  al- 
most living  state,  except  that  they  are  incapa- 
ble of  movement,  an  essential  condition  if 
the  grub  is  to  feed  on  them  in  safety.  The 
miracle  is  performed  by  the  most  cunning 
methods  known  to  physiology.  The  poi- 
soned lancet  is  driven  into  the  nerve-centres 
once  or  oftener,  according  to  the  structure  of 
the  nervous  system.  Thus  operated  upon, 
the  victim  retains  all  the  attributes  of  life, 
short  of  the  power  of  moving. 

Let  us  see  if  the  Bembex  make  use  of  this 
profound  science  of  slaughter.  The  Flies 
taken  from  between  the  legs  of  the  kidnapper 
as  she  enters  her  burrow  present,  in  most 
cases,  every  appearance  of  death.  They  are 
motionless;  occasionally  we  can  detect  in  a 
few  of  them  some  faint  convulsions  of  the 
tarsi,  the  last  vestiges  of  a  life  that  is  passing 
away.  The  same  appearance  of  complete 
death  is  usually  found  in  the  insects  which 
are  not  actually  killed  but  paralysed  by  the 
295 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

adroit  dagger-thrust  of  a  Cerceris  or  a 
Sphex.  The  question  whether  they  are  alive 
or  dead  can  therefore  be  decided  only  ac- 
cording to  the  manner  in  which  the  victims 
keep  fresh. 

Placed  in  little  screws  of  paper  or  in  glass 
tubes,  the  Crickets  and  Grasshoppers  of  the 
Sphex,  the  caterpillars  of  the  Ammophilae 
and  the  Beetles  and  Weevils  of  the  Cer- 
ceres  preserve  their  flexibility  of  limb,  their 
freshness  of  colouring  and  the  normal  condi- 
tion of  their  intestines  for  weeks  and  months. 
They  are  not  corpses  but  bodies  sunk  in  a 
lethargy  from  which  there  is  no  awaking. 
The  Flies  of  the  Bembex  behave  quite  differ- 
ently. The  Eristales,  the  Syrphi  —  in  short 
all  those  whose  livery  is  at  all  brightly-col- 
oured—  soon  lose  the  brilliancy  of  their  at- 
tire. The  eyes  of  certain  Gad-flies,  magnifi- 
cently gilded,  with  three  purple  bands,  very 
quickly  grow  pale  and  dim,  like  the  eyes  of  a 
dying  man.  All  these  Flies,  large  and  small, 
when  placed  in  little  paper  bags  through  which 
the  air  circulates  freely,  dry  up  in  two  or 
three  days  and  become  brittle ;  all,  when  pre- 
served against  evaporation  in  glass  tubes  in 
which  the  air  is  stationary,  go  mouldy  and 
decay.  They  are  dead,  therefore,  really  and 
296 


The  Fly-hunt 

truly  dead,  when  the  Wasp  brings  them  to 
her  larva.  Should  some  of  them  still  retain 
a  remnant  of  life,  a  few  days  or  even  hours 
put  an  end  to  their  agony.  Consequently,  for 
lack  of  talent  in  the  use  of  her  dagger  or  for 
some  other  reason,  the  murderess  kills  her 
victims  outright. 

In  view  of  this  fact,  that  the  prey  is  quite 
dead  at  the  moment  when  it  is  carried  off,  who 
would  not  admire  the  logic  of  the  Bembex' 
procedure?  How  methodical  and  consistent 
everything  is  in  the  actions  of  the  cunning 
Wasp !  As  the  provisions  cannot  keep  be- 
yond two  or  three  days  without  going  bad, 
they  must  not  be  stored  entire  in  the  first 
stages  of  an  infancy  which  will  last  at  least  a 
fortnight;  and  the  hunting  and  distribution 
must  necessarily  be  done  day  by  day,  bit  by 
bit,  as  the  larva  grows  up.  The  first  ration, 
the  one  that  receives  the  egg,  will  last  longer 
than  the  others;  the  budding  grub  will  take 
several  days  to  eat  its  flesh.  It  must  there- 
fore be  small,  otherwise  the  joint  would  be- 
gin to  putrify  before  it  was  all  finished.  This 
joint  therefore  will  not  be  a  bulky  Gad-fly  or 
a  corpulent  Bombylius,  but  rather  a  tiny 
Sphasrophoria,  or  something  similar,  making 
a  dainty  meal  for  a  larva  which  is  still  so 
297 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

delicate.  Later,  getting  bigger  and  bigger 
in  time,  will  come  the  larger  joints  of  veni- 
son. 

The  burrow  must  be  kept  shut  during  the 
mother's  absence,  to  save  the  larva  from  re- 
grettable intrusions;  nevertheless  the  en- 
trance must  be  one  that  can  be  opened  very 
frequently  and  hurriedly,  without  much  dif- 
ficulty, when  the  Wasp  returns  laden  with  her 
prey  and  watched  by  the  sharp  eyes  of  daring 
parasites.  These  conditions  could  not  be 
obtained  with  a  compact  soil  such  as  that  in 
which  the  Digger-wasps  usually  make  their 
abodes:  the  door,  left  to  itself,  would  stay 
open;  and  so,  each  time,  there  would  be  the 
long  and  toilsome  job  of  either  blocking  up 
the  entrance  with  earth  and  gravel  or  un- 
blocking it,  as  the  case  might  be.  The  house 
therefore  must  be  dug  in  ground  with  a  very 
loose  surface,  in  fine  dry  sand,  which  will  at 
once  yield  to  the  slightest  effort  on  the 
mother's  part  and,  as  it  slides  down,  will 
close  the  door  of  its  own  accord,  like  a  curtain 
which,  when  you  thrust  it  aside  with  your 
hand,  lets  you  pass  through  and  then  falls 
back  again.  There  you  have  the  series  of 
actions  as  deduced  by  man's  reason  and  as 
practised  by  the  Wasp's  sagacity. 
298 


The  Fly-hunt 

Why  does  the  spoiler  kill  the  captured  prey 
instead  of  simply  paralysing  it?  Is  it  for 
want  of  skill  in  the  use  of  her  sting?  Is  it 
because  of  some  difficulty  due  to  the  structure 
of  the  Flies  or  to  the  methods  employed  in  the 
chase?  I  must  begin  by  confessing  that  I 
have  failed  in  my  attempts  to  place  Flies, 
without  killing  them,  in  that  state  of  complete 
immobility  to  which  it  is  so  easy  to  reduce  a 
Buprestis,  a  Weevil  or  a  Scarab  by  injecting 
a  tiny  drop  of  ammonia  with  a  needle  into 
the  thoracic  ganglia.  In  making  the  experi- 
ment, it  is  difficult  to  render  the  insect  mo- 
tionless ;  and,  by  the  time  that  it  has  ceased 
to  move,  death  has  actually  occurred,  as  is 
proved  by  its  speedy  corruption  or  desiccation. 
But  I  have  too  much  confidence  in  the  re- 
sources of  instinct  and  have  witnessed  the  in- 
genious solution  of  too  many  problems  to  be- 
lieve that  a  difficulty  which  baffles  the  experi- 
menter can  bring  the  insect  to  a  standstill. 
Therefore,  without  throwing  doubt  upon  the 
Bembex'  talents  as  a  slaughterer,  I  should 
be  inclined  to  look  for  other  reasons. 

Perhaps  the  Fly,  so  thinly  covered,  so  de- 
void of  any  plumpness,  in  a  word,  so  lean, 
could  not,  if  paralysed  by  the  sting,  resist 
evaporation  long  enough  and  would  shrivel 
299 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

up  during  the  two  or  three  weeks  of  waiting. 
Consider  the  puny  Sphaerophoria,  the  larva's 
first  mouthful.  How  much  liquid  has  that 
body  to  satisfy  the  needs  of  evaporation? 
An  infinitesimal  drop,  a  mere  nothing.  The 
abdomen  is  a  thin  strip;  its  two  sides  touch. 
Can  such  game  as  this  form  the  basis  of  pre- 
served food,  seeing  that  evaporation  would 
dry  up  its  juices  in  a  few  hours  when  these 
are  not  renewed  by  nutrition?  It  is  doubt- 
ful, to  say  the  least. 

Let  us  examine  the  method  of  hunting,  so 
as  to  throw  some  final  light  on  the  subject.  In 
the  quarry  removed  from  between  the  legs  of 
the  Bembex,  it  is  not  rare  to  observe  signs 
of  a  hurried  capture,  made  anyhow,  accord- 
ing to  the  chances  of  a  rough-and-tumble 
fight.  The  Fly  sometimes  has  her  head 
turned  the  wrong  way  round,  as  though  the 
spoiler  had  wrung  her  neck;  her  wings  are 
crushed;  her  fur,  when  she  possesses  any,  is 
ruffled.  I  have  seen  some  that  had  their  bel- 
lies ripped  open  by  their  assailant's  mandi- 
bles and  had  lost  their  legs  in  the  battle.  As 
a  rule,  however,  the  victim  is  intact. 

No  matter:  considering  the  nature  of  the 
game,  endowed  with  good  wings  for  flying, 
300 


The  Fly-hunt 

the  capture  must  take  place  with  a  sudden- 
ness that  makes  it  hardly  possible,  I  should 
say,  to  obtain  paralysis  unaccompanied  by 
death.  A  Cerceris  face  to  face  with  her 
clumsy  Weevil,  a  Sphex  grappling  with  the 
fat  Cricket  or  the  portly  Ephippiger,  an  Am- 
mophila  holding  her  caterpillar  by  the  skin 
of  its  neck,  all  three  have  an  advantage  over 
a  prey  which  is  too  slow  in  its  movements  to 
avoid  attack.  They  can  take  their  time,  se- 
lect at  their  ease  the  mathematical  spot  where 
the  sting  is  to  penetrate  and  lastly  go  to  work 
with  the  precision  of  an  anatomist  probing 
with  his  scalpel  the  patient  who  lies  before 
him  on  the  operating-table.  But  with  the 
Bembex  it  is  a  very  different  matter:  at  the 
least  alarm,  the  game  nimbly  makes  off;  and, 
once  on  the  wing,  it  can  defy  its  pursuer. 
The  Wasp  has  to  pounce  upon  her  prey  una- 
wares, without  considering  how  she  shall  at- 
tack or  calculating  her  blows,  just  as  the  Gos- 
hawk does  when  hunting  in  the  fallows. 
Mandibles,  claws,  sting,  every  weapon  must 
be  employed  simultaneously  in  the  fierce  fray 
so  as  to  put  an  end  as  early  as  possible  to  a 
contest  in  which  the  least  hesitation  would 
give  the  victim  time  to  escape.  If  these  con- 
301 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

jectures  are  borne  out  by  the  facts,  the  Bem- 
bex'  prize  can  be  nothing  but  a  corpse  or  at 
most  a  mortally  wounded  prey. 

Well,  my  conjectures  are  correct:  the  Bem- 
bex  delivers  her  attack  with  a  dash  which 
would  do  credit  to  a  bird  of  prey.  To  sur- 
prise the  Wasp  hunting  is  not  an  easy  thing; 
were  we  never  so  well  armed  with  patience, 
we  should  watch  in  vain  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  the  burrow:  the  favourable  opportunity 
would  not  present  itself,  for  the  insect  flies 
far  away  and  there  is  no  possibility  of  follow- 
ing it  in  its  rapid  evolutions.  Its  tactics 
would  doubtless  be  unknown  to  me  but  for 
the  assistance  of  a  utensil  from  which  I  would 
certainly  never  have  expected  such  a  service. 
I  am  speaking  of  my  umbrella,  which  I  used 
as  a  protection  against  the  sun  in  the  sand  of 
the  Bois  des  Issarts. 

I  was  not  the  only  one  to  profit  by  its  shade ; 
I  was  generally  surrounded  by  numerous  com- 
panions. Gad-flies  of  various  species  would 
take  refuge  under  the  silken  dome  and  sit 
peacefully  on  every  part  of  the  tightly- 
stretched  cover.  I  was  rarely  without  their 
society  when  the  heat  became  overpowering. 
To  while  away  the  hours  when  I  had  nothing 
to  do,  it  amused  me  to  watch  their  great  gold 
302 


The  Fly-hunt 

eyes,  which  shone  like  carbuncles  under  my 
canopy;  I  loved  to  follow  their  solemn  pro- 
gress when  some  part  of  the  ceiling  became 
too  hot  and  obliged  them  to  move  a  little 
way  on. 

One  day,  bang!  The  tight  cover  re- 
sounded like  the  skin  of  a  drum.  Perhaps 
an  oak  had  dropped  an  acorn  on  the  um- 
brella. Presently,  one  after  the  other,  bang, 
bang,  bang!  Can  some  practical  joker  have 
come  to  disturb  my  solitude  and  fling  acorns 
or  little  pebbles  at  my  umbrella?  I  leave  my 
tent  and  inspect  the  neighbourhood:  nothing! 
The  same  sharp  sound  is  repeated.  I  look 
up  at  the  ceiling  and  the  mystery  is  explained. 
The  Bembex  of  the  vicinity,  who  all  consume 
Gad-flies,  had  discovered  the  rich  provender 
that  was  keeping  me  company  and  were  im- 
pudently penetrating  my  shelter  to  seize  the 
Flies  on  the  ceiling.  Things  were  going  to 
perfection:  I  had  only  to  sit  still  and  look. 

Every  moment,  a  Bembex  would  enter, 
swift  as  lightning,  and  dart  up  to  the  silken 
ceiling,  which  resounded  with  a  sharp  thud. 
Some  rumpus  was  going  on  aloft,  where  the 
eye  could  no  longer  distinguish  between  at- 
tacker and  attacked,  so  lively  was  the  fray. 
The  struggle  did  not  last  for  an  appreciable 
303 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

time:  the  Wasp  would  retire  forthwith  with 
a  victim  between  her  legs.  The  dull  herd 
of  Gad-flies,  at  this  sudden  irruption  which 
slaughtered  them  one  after  the  other,  drew 
back  a  little  all  round,  without  quitting  the 
treacherous  shelter.  It  was  so  hot  outside ! 
Why  get  excited? 

Obviously,  this  suddenness  of  attack,  fol- 
lowed by  the  swift  removal  of  the  prey,  does 
not  allow  the  Bembex  to  regulate  her  dagger- 
play.  The  sting  no  doubt  performs  its  of- 
fice, but  it  is  directed  without  precision  at 
those  spots  which  the  hazards  of  the  fight 
place  within  its  reach.  I  have  seen  Bem- 
bex, to  finish  off  their  half-killed  Gad-flies 
still  struggling  in  the  assassin's  grasp,  munch 
the  head  ahd  thorax  of  the  victims.  This 
habit  in  itself  proves  that  the  Wasp  wants  a 
genuine  corpse  and  not  a  paralysed  prey,  since 
she  ends  the  Fly's  agony  with  so  little  cere- 
mony. All  things  considered,  therefore,  I 
think  that,  on  the  one  hand,  the  nature  of  the 
prey,  which  dries  up  so  quickly,  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  difficulty  of  making  such 
rapid  attacks  explain  why  the  Bembex  serve 
up  dead  prey  to  their  larvae  and  consequently 
cater  for  them  from  day  to  day. 

Let  us  watch  the  Wasp  as  she  returns  to  the 
304 


The  Fly-hunt 

burrow  with  her  capture  held  under  her  ab- 
domen between  her  legs.  Here  comes  one, 
the  Tarsal  Bembex  (B.  tarsata),  who  ar- 
rives laden  with  a  Bee-fly.  The  nest  is  sit- 
uated at  the  sandy  foot  of  a  steep  bank.  The 
huntress  announces  her  approach  by  a  shrill 
humming,  which  has  something  plaintive 
about  it  and  which  continues  until  the  insect 
sets  foot  to  earth.  We  see  the  Bembex  hover 
above  the  bank  and  then  dip  straight  down, 
very  slowly  and  cautiously,  all  the  time  emit- 
ting her  shrill  hum.  Should  her  keen  eye 
descry  anything  unusual,  she  slackens  her 
descent,  hovers  for  a  second  or  two,  goes  up 
again,  comes  down  again  and  flies  away,  swift 
as  an  arrow.  After  a  few  moments,  here 
she  is  once  more.  Hovering  at  a  certain 
height,  she  appears  to  be  inspecting  the  lo- 
cality, as  if  from  the  top  of  an  observatory. 
The  vertical  descent  is  resumed  with  the  most 
cautious  slowness;  finally,  the  Wasp  alights 
with  no  hesitation  whatever  at  a  spot  which 
to  my  eye  has  naught  to  distinguish  it  from 
the  rest  of  the  sandy  surface.  At  that  in< 
stant,  the  plaintive  whimper  ceases. 

The  insect,  no  doubt,  has  landed  more  01 
less  on  chance,  since  the  most  practised  eye 
cannot  distinguish  one  spot  from  the  other 
305 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

on  that  expanse  of  sand;  it  has  alighted  some- 
where near  its  home,  of  which  it  will  now 
seek  the  entrance,  concealed  after  its  last  exit 
not  only  by  the  natural  falling-in  of  the  ma- 
terials but  also  by  the  Wasp's  own  careful 
sweeping?  But  no:  the  Bembex  does  not 
hesitate  at  all,  does  not  grope  about,  does 
not  seek.  By  common  consent,  the  antennae 
are  looked  upon  as  organs  for  guiding  insects 
in  their  searches.  At  this  moment  of  the 
return  to  the  nest,  I  see  nothing  particular  in 
the  play  of  the  antennae.  Without  once  let- 
ting go  her  prey,  the  Bembex  scratches  a  lit- 
tle in  front  of  her,  at  the  very  spot  where  she 
has  alighted,  gives  a  push  with  her  head  and 
straightway  enters,  with  the  Fly  under  her 
abdomen.  The  sand  falls  in,  the  door  closes 
and  the  Wasp  is  at  home. 

It  makes  no  difference  that  I  have  seen  the 
Bembex  return  to  her  nest  hundreds  of 
times;  it  is  always  with  fresh  astonishment 
that  I  behold  the  keen-sighted  insect  find 
without  hesitation  a  door  whose  presence 
there  is  nothing  to  indicate.  This  door,  in 
fact,  is  hidden  with  jealous  care,  not  now, 
after  the  Bembex  has  gone  in  —  for  the  ob- 
literating sand  does  not  become  quite  level 
of  its  own  weight,  but  leaves  perhaps  a  slight 
306 


The  Fly-hunt 

depression,  or  an  incompletely  blocked  porch 
—  but  certainly  after  she  comes  out,  for,  when 
starting  on  an  expedition,  she  never  fails  to 
put  a  finishing  touch  to  the  result  of  the  na- 
tural landslip.  Wait  for  her  departure  and 
you  shall  see  her,  before  flying  off,  sweep  the 
front  of  her  door  and  level  it  with  scrupulous 
care.  When  she  is  gone,  I  defy  the  most 
penetrating  eye  to  find  the  entrance.  To  dis- 
cover it  again,  when  the  sandy  expanse  was  of 
any  size,  I  had  to  resort  to  a  kind  of  trian- 
gulation;  and  how  often,  after  a  few  hours' 
absence,  did  not  my  combinations  of  trian- 
gles and  my  efforts  of  memory  prove  to  be 
at  fault!  All  that  remained  was  the  stake, 
a  grass-stalk  planted  on  the  threshold;  and 
even  this  method  was  not  always  effective, 
for  the  insect,  with  its  passion  for  continually 
improving  the  outside  of  the  nest,  often  made 
the  bit  of  straw  disappear  from  sight. 


307 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A   PARASITE  OF  THE  BEMBEX.      THE  COCOON 

I  HAVE  shown  the  Bembex  hovering 
•*•  with  her  cumbrous  prize  above  the 
nest  and  then  dropping  vertically  and  very 
slowly:  a  hesitating  descent  accompanied  by 
a  sort  of  plaintive  hum.  This  cautious  ar- 
rival might  suggest  that  the  insect  is  exam- 
ining the  ground  from  above  in  order  to  find 
its  door  and  trying  to  recall  the  locality  be- 
fore alighting.  But  another  motive  is  at 
work,  as  I  propose  to  demonstrate.  Under 
ordinary  conditions,  when  no  sign  of  danger 
is  apparent,  the  Wasp  comes  suddenly,  at  full 
tilt,  without  any  hovering,  hesitating  or  whim- 
pering, and  settles  at  once  on  her  threshold 
or  very  near  it.  Her  memory  is  so  faithful 
that  she  has  no  need  to  search  about.  Let 
us  then  look  into  the  cause  of  that  hesitating 
approach  which  I  described  in  the  last  chap- 
ter. 

The  Wasp  hovers,  descends  slowly,  ascends 
again,   flies   away  and  returns,  because  the 
nest  is  threatened  by  a  very  grave  danger. 
308 


A  Parasite  of  the  Bembex 

Her  plaintive  hum  denotes  anxiety:  she  never 
emits  it  when  there  is  no  peril.  But  who  is 
the  enemy?  Can  it  be  I,  sitting  here  and 
watching?  Why,  no:  I  am  nothing  to  her, 
nothing  but  a  shapeless  mass  unworthy  of  her 
attention.  The  formidable  enemy,  the  fear- 
some foe  that  must  be  avoided  at  all  costs,  is 
there,  sitting  motionless  on  the  sand,  near  the 
house.  It  is  a  miserable  little  Fly,  feeble 
and  inoffensive  in  appearance.  This  insig- 
nificant Gnat  is  the  terror  of  the  Bembex. 
The  scourge  of  the  Fly-tribe,  the  fierce  slayer 
who  so  swiftly  wrings  the  necks  of  colossal 
Gad-flies  sated  with  blood  from  an  Ox's  back, 
does  not  enter  her  own  residence  because  she 
sees  herself  watched  by  another  Fly,  a  regu- 
lar pigmy,  who  would  make  scarcely  a  mouth- 
ful for  her  larvae. 

Why  does  she  not  pounce  upon  her  and  get 
rid  of  the  little  wretch?  The  Wasp  is  quick 
enough  on  the  wing  to  catch  her;  and,  small 
though  the  capture  be,  the  larvae  will  not 
scorn  it,  since  any  sort  of  Fly  suits  them. 
But  no :  the  Bembex  flees  from  a  foe  whom 
she  could  cut  to  bits  with  a  single  stroke  of 
her  mandibles ;  it  is  to  me  as  though  I  saw  my 
Cat  fleeing  in  terror  from  a  Mouse.  The 
ardent  huntress  of  Flies  is  hunted  by  a  Fly 
309 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

and  a  small  one  at  that.  I  bow  before  the 
facts  without  hoping  ever  to  understand  this 
inversion  of  the  parts  played  by  each  insect. 
To  be  able  to  rid  yourself  easily  of  a  mortal 
enemy  who  is  contemplating  the  ruin  of  your 
family  and  who  would  furnish  a  nice  little 
meal  for  it,  to  be  able  to  do  that  and  not  do  it 
when  the  enemy  is  there,  within  reach  of  you, 
watching  you,  defying  you :  this  is  the  height 
of  animal  aberration.  But  aberration  is  not 
the  right  word;  let  us  rather  speak  of  the 
harmony  of  created  things,  for,  since  this 
wretched  little  Fly  has  her  tiny  part  to  play 
in  the  general  order,  the  Bembex  must  needs 
respect  her  and  like  a  craven  flee  before  her, 
else  there  would  long  since  have  been  none 
of  her  left  in  the  world. 

Let  us  now  tell  the  history  of  this  parasite. 
Among  the  nests  of  the  Bembex,  we  find  very 
frequently  some  that  are  occupied  at  the  same 
time  by  the  larva  of  the  Wasp  and  by  other 
larvae,  strangers  to  the  family  and  gluttonous 
companions  of  the  first.  These  strangers 
are  smaller  than  the  Bembex'  nurseling,  tear- 
shaped  and  of  a  purplish  colour,  due  to  the 
tint  of  the  baby-food  that  shows  through  the 
transparent  body.  They  vary  in  number: 
there  are  sometimes  half-a-dozen  of  them, 
310 


A  Parasite  of  the  Bembex 

sometimes  ten  or  more.  They  belong  to  a 
species  of  Fly,  as  is  evident  from  their  shape 
and  also  confirmed  by  the  pupae  which  we  find 
in  their  place.  Home-breeding  completes 
the  proof.  When  reared  in  boxes,  on  a  layer 
of  sand,  with  Flies  renewed  from  day  to  day, 
they  turn  into  pupae  from  which,  a  year  later, 
there  issues  a  small  Fly,  a  Tachina  of  the 
genus  known  as  Miltogramma. 

It  is  the  same  Fly  that  caused  the  Bembex 
such  lively  fears  by  lying  in  ambush  near  the 
burrow.  The  Wasp's  terror  is  but  too  well 
founded.  This  is  what  happens  inside  the 
dwelling:  around  the  heap  of  food  which  the 
mother  exhausts  herself  in  keeping  up  to  the 
requisite  quantity,  seated  in  company  with  the 
lawful  offspring  are  from  six  to  ten  hungry 
guests,  who  dip  their  sharp-pointed  mouths 
into  the  common  dish  with  no  more  restraint 
than  if  they  were  at  home.  Harmony  seems 
to  prevail  at  the  table.  I  have  never  seen 
the  lawful  larva  grow  indignant  at  the  indis- 
cretion of  the  alien  grubs,  nor  have  I  seen 
these  appear  to  wish  to  interfere  with  the 
other's  repast.  All  help  themselves  indis- 
criminately and  eat  away  peaceably  without 
seeking  a  quarrel  with  their  neighbours. 

So  far  all  would  be  well,  if  a  serious  diffi- 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

culty  did  not  now  arise.  However  active 
the  mother-nurse  may  be,  she  is  obviously 
not  equal  to  such  an  output.  She  had  to  be 
constantly  hunting  to  feed  one  larva,  her  own ; 
how  could  she  possibly  manage  to  provide 
for  a  dozen  greedy  mouths?  The  result  of 
this  enormous  increase  of  family  can  only 
be  want,  or  even  starvation,  not  for  the  Fly's 
maggots,  which,  developing  more  quickly 
than  the  Bembex'  larva,  get  ahead  of  it  and 
profit  by  the  days  when  there  is  still  plenty 
for  everybody,  as  their  host  is  too  young  to 
need  much,  but  certainly  for  that  unfortunate 
host,  who  arrives  at  the  transformation- 
period  without  being  able  to  make  up  for  lost 
time.  Besides,  even  if  the  first  visitors,  in 
becoming  pupae,  leave  him  the  free  run  of 
the  table,  others  appear  upon  the  scene,  so 
long  as  the  mother  continues  to  come  to  the 
nest,  and  complete  his  starvation. 

In  burrows  invaded  by  numerous  parasites, 
the  Bembex'  larva  is  in  point  of  fact  much 
smaller  than  one  would  suppose  from  the 
heap  of  food  consumed,  the  remains  of  which 
encumber  the  cell.  Limp,  emaciated,  re- 
duced to  a  half  or  a  third  of  its  normal  size, 
it  vainly  tries  to  weave  a  cocoon  for  which  it 
does  not  possess  the  silk;  and  it  perishes  in  a 
312 


A  Parasite  of  the  Bembex 

corner  of  the  house  among  the  pupae  of  its 
more  fortunate  companions.  Its  end  may  be 
more  cruel  still.  Should  the  provisions  fail, 
should  the  mother-nurse  delay  too  long  in  re- 
turning with  food,  the  Flies  devour  the  larva 
of  the  Bembex.  I  verified  this  black  deed  by 
rearing  the  brood  myself.  All  went  well  so 
long  as  there  was  plenty  to  eat;  but,  if  the 
daily  portion  was  omitted  by  accident  or  de- 
sign, next  day  or  the  day  after  I  was  sure  to 
find  the  Fly's  grubs  greedily  slicing  up  the 
larva  of  the  Bembex.  So,  when  the  nest  is 
invaded  by  the  parasites,  the  lawful  larva  is 
doomed  to  perish,  either  by  hunger  or  by  a 
violent  death;  and  this  is  what  makes  the 
Bembex  hate  the  sight  of  the  Miltogrammae 
prowling  around  her  home. 

The  Bembex  are  not  the  only  victims  of 
these  parasites :  all  the  Digger-wasps  without 
distinction  have  their  burrows  plundered  by 
Tachinae  and  especially  Miltogrammse.  Dif- 
ferent observers,  notably  Lepeletier  de  Saint- 
Fargeau,  have  spoken  of  the  wiles  of  these 
bold-faced  Flies;  but  none  of  them,  so  far  as 
I  know,  has  remarked  this  very  curious  in- 
stance of  parasitism  at  the  expense  of  the 
Bembex.  I  say  very  curious,  because  the 
conditions  are  quite  different.  The  nests  of 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

the  other  Digger-wasps  are  stocked  before- 
hand and  the  Miltogramma  drops  her  eggs 
on  the  pieces  of  game  as  they  are  taken  in. 
When  the  Wasp  has  finished  her  catering  and 
laid  her  egg,  she  closes  the  cell,  where  hence- 
forth the  lawful  larva  and  the  alien  larvae 
hatch  and  live  together  without  ever  being 
visited  in  their  solitude.  The  mother  there- 
fore is  not  aware  of  the  parasites'  brigand- 
age, which  remains  unpunished  because  it  is 
unknown. 

With  the  Bembex,  it  is  quite  another  mat- 
ter. The  mother  is  constantly  returning  in- 
doors during  the  fortnight  which  it  takes  to 
rear  her  grubs;  she  knows  that  her  offspring 
is  living  in  the  company  of  a  number  of  in- 
truders, who  appropriate  the  best  part  of  the 
food;  each  time  that  she  brings  provisions 
to  her  larva,  she  touches  and  feels  at  the 
bottom  of  the  cavity  those  hungry  guests 
who,  far  from  contenting  themselves  with 
the  remnants,  seize  upon  the  pick  of  the 
victuals;  she  must  perceive,  however  limited 
her  arithmetical  faculties,  that  twelve  are 
more  than  one;  besides,  the  consumption  of 
food,  which  is  out  of  all  proportion  to  her 
hunting-powers,  would  tell  her;  and  yet,  in- 
stead of  taking  those  presumptuous  aliens  by 

m 


A  Parasite  of  the  Bembex 

the  skin  of  the  belly  and  chucking  them  out 
of  doors,  she  placidly  tolerates  them. 

Tolerates  them,  did  I  say?  Why,  she 
feeds  them,  she  brings  them  provisions,  hav- 
ing perhaps  for  those  intruders  the  same  af- 
fection as  for  her  own  larva !  It  is  a  new 
version  of  the  story  of  the  Cuckoo,  but  with 
even  more  singular  circumstances.  The 
theory  that  the  Cuckoo,  almost  the  size  of 
the  Sparrow-hawk  and  wearing  the  same 
dress,  inspires  enough  respect  to  enable  him 
to  introduce  his  egg  with  impunity  into  the 
feeble  Warbler's  nest  and  that  the  latter, 
in  her  turn,  perhaps  overawed  by  the  fear- 
some appearance  of  her  Toad-faced  nurse- 
ling, accepts  and  looks  after  the  stranger: 
this  theory  has  some  plausibility.  But  what 
should  we  say  if  the  Warbler  turned  para- 
site and,  with  superb  audacity,  went  and  con- 
fided her  eggs  to  the  eyrie  of  the  bird  of 
prey,  to  the  nest  of  the  Sparrow-hawk  him- 
self, the  bloodthirsty  devourer  of  War- 
blers? What  should  we  say  if  the  rapacious 
Hawk  accepted  the  trust  and  fondly  reared 
the  brood  of  little  birds?  And  this  is  ex- 
actly what  the  Bembex  does,  that  ravisher  of 
Flies  who  tenderly  nurses  other  Flies,  that 
huntress  who  provides  food  for  a  quarry 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

whose  last  meal  will  be  made  on  her  own 
disembowelled  larva!  I  leave  it  to  others, 
cleverer  than  myself,  to  interpret  these  as- 
tonishing relations. 

Let  us  observe  the  tactics  employed  by 
the  Tachina  for  the  purpose  of  confiding  her 
eggs  to  the  Digger's  nest.  It  is  an  absolute 
rule  that  the  Gnat  never  enters  the  burrow, 
even  though  she  should  find  it  open  and  the 
owner  absent.  The  sly  parasite  would  think 
twice  about  venturing  down  a  passage  where, 
being  no  longer  free  to  escape,  she  might 
pay  dear  for  her  brazen  effrontery.  For 
her  the  one  and  only  favourable  moment 
for  her  designs,  a  moment  awaited  with  ex- 
quisite patience,  is  that  at  which  the  Wasp 
dives  into  the  gallery,  with  her  prey  clasped 
to  her  belly.  At  that  instant,  however  short 
it  may  be,  when  the  Bembex  or  any  other 
Digger  has  half  her  body  well  within  the 
entrance  and  is  about  to  disappear  under- 
ground, the  Miltogramma  dashes  up  and 
settles  on  the  piece  of  game  that  projects  a 
little  way  beyond  the  hinder  extremity  of  the 
ravisher;  and,  while  the  Bembex  is  delayed 
by  the  difficulty  of  entering,  the  other,  with 
unparalleled  swiftness,  lays  an  egg  on  the 
prey,  or  even  two  or  three  in  quick  succession. 
3i6 


A  Parasite  of  the  Bembex 

The  hesitation  of  the  Wasp  hampered  by 
her  load  lasts  but  the  twinkling  of  an  eye. 
No  matter :  this  is  long  enough  for  the  Gnat 
to  accomplish  her  misdeed  without  allow- 
ing herself  to  be  carried  beyond  the  thresh- 
old. How  smoothly  her  organs  must  work 
to  adapt  themselves  to  this  instantaneous  lay- 
ing! The  Bembex  disappears,  herself  in- 
troducing the  enemy  to  the  home;  and  the 
Tachina  goes  and  squats  in  the  sun,  close 
to  the  burrow,  to  meditate  fresh  deeds  of 
darkness.  If  we  wish  to  make  sure  that  the 
Fly's  eggs  have  really  been  laid  during  this 
rapid  manoeuvre,  we  need  only  open  the  bur- 
row and  follow  the  Bembex  to  the  bottom 
of  her  dwelling.  The  prey  which  we  take 
from  her  bears  at  the  tip  of  its  abdomen  at 
least  one  egg,  sometimes  more,  according  to 
the  length  of  the  delay  at  the  entrance. 
These  eggs  are  too  small  to  belong  to  any 
but  a  parasite;  besides,  if  any  doubt  re- 
mained, separate  rearing  in  a  box  results  in 
Fly-grubs,  followed  by  the  pupae  and  lastly 
the  Miltogrammse  themselves. 

The  moment  adopted  by  the  Gnat  is  chosen 
with  great  discrimination :  it  is  the  only  mo- 
ment when  she  is  able  to  accomplish  her  de- 
signs without  danger  and  without  useless 
317 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

dodging  about.  The  Wasp,  half-trapped  in 
the  entrance-hall,  cannot  see  the  foe  so  dar- 
ingly perched  on  the  hind-quarters  of  the 
prey;  if  she  suspects  the  parasite's  presence, 
she  cannot  drive  her  away,  having  no  liberty 
of  movement  in  the  narrow  corridor;  lastly, 
in  spite  of  all  the  precautions  which  she  takes 
to  facilitate  her  entrance,  she  cannot  always 
vanish  underground  with  the  necessary  speed, 
the  fact  being  that  the  bandit  is  much  too 
quick  for  her.  This  indeed  is  the  auspicious 
moment  and  the  only  one,  since  prudence  for- 
bids the  Fly  to  penetrate  into  the  cave  where 
other  Flies,  far  stronger  than  herself,  serve 
as  food  for  the  grub.  Outside,  in  the  open 
air,  the  difficulty  is  insurmountable,  thanks 
to  the  intense  vigilance  of  the  Bembex.  Let 
us  turn  for  a  minute  to  the  arrival  of  the 
mother  while  her  home  is  being  watched  by 
Miltogrammae. 

A  number  of  these  Midges,  greater  or  less 
from  time  to  time  but  usually  three  or  four, 
station  themselves  on  the  sand  and  remain 
perfectly  still,  all  gazing  at  the  burrow,  of 
which  they  well  know  the  entrance,  carefully 
hidden  though  it  be.  Their  dull-brown  col- 
our, their  great  blood-red  eyes,  their  inde- 
fatigable patience  have  often  suggested  to 


A  Parasite  of  the  Bembex 

me  a  picture  of  brigands,  clad  in  dark  frieze, 
with  a  red  handkerchief  round  their  heads, 
waiting  in  ambush  for  the  moment  to  strike  a 
felon  blow.  The  Wasp  arrives  carrying  her 
prey.  If  nothing  of  an  alarming  nature 
troubled  her,  she  would  then  and  there  alight 
at  her  door.  But  she  hovers  at  a  certain 
height,  comes  down  slowly  and  circum- 
spectly, hesitates;  and  a  plaintive  whimper- 
ing, resulting  from  a  special  vibration  of  her 
wings,  expresses  her  fears.  She  has  seen 
the  malefactors  therefore.  They  too  have 
seen  the  Bembex:  they  follow  her  with  their 
eyes,  as  the  movement  of  their  red  heads 
shows;  every  gaze  is  turned  towards  the 
coveted  booty.  Now  come  the  marches  and 
countermarches  of  craft  striving  to  outwit 
prudence. 

The  Bembex  comes  straight  down,  with 
an  imperceptible  flight,  as  though  letting  her- 
self drop  inertly,  buoyed  up  by  the  parachute 
of  her  wings.  She  is  now  hovering  a  hand's 
breadth  above  the  ground.  This  is  the  mo- 
ment. The  Midges  take  flight  and  all  make 
for  the  rear  of  the  Wasp ;  they  hover  in  her 
wake,  some  nearer,  some  farther,  in  a  geo- 
metrical line.  If  the  Bembex  turns  to 
thwart  their  designs,  they  also  turn,  with  a 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

precision  that  keeps  them  in  the  rear  on  the 
same  straight  line;  if  she  advances,  they  ad- 
vance; if  she  retreats,  they  retreat,  letting 
the  Wasp  set  their  pace  all  the  time,  now 
flying  slowly,  now  coming  to  a  stand-still, 
according  to  the  behaviour  of  their  leader, 
the  Bembex.  They  make  no  attempt  to 
fling  themselves  on  the  object  of  their  cupid- 
ity; their  tactics  are  confined  to  keeping 
ready,  in  this  rearguard  position,  which  will 
save  them  any  hesitation  at  the  critical  mo- 
ment. 

Sometimes,  wearying  of  this  obstinate  pur- 
suit, the  Bembex  alights;  the  others  instantly 
settle  on  the  sandj  still  in  the  rear,  and  do 
not  budge.  The  Wasp  darts  off  again, 
with  a  shriller  whimpering,  a  sign  no  doubt 
of  increasing  indignation;  the  Midges  dart 
after  her.  One  last  method  remains  of 
throwing  off  the  persistent  Flies :  dashing  off 
at  full  speed,  the  Bembex  flies  far  away,  ho- 
ping perhaps  to  mislead  the  parasites  by  rapid 
evolutions  across  country.  But  the  wary 
Gnats  are  not  caught  in  the  trap :  they  let  her 
go  and  once  more  take  up  their  positions  on 
the  sand  around  the  burrow.  When  the 
Bembex  returns,  the  same  pursuit  will  begin 
all  over  again,  until  at  last  the  parasites'  ob- 
320 


A  Parasite  of  the  Bembex 

stinacy  has  worn  down  the  mother's  prudence. 
In  that  second  when  her  vigilance  is  relaxed, 
the  Flies  are  straightway  there.  One  of 
them,  occupying  the  most  favourable  spot, 
swoops  upon  the  disappearing  prey  and  the 
deed  is  done :  the  egg  is  laid. 

There  is  ample  evidence  that  the  Bembex 
is  aware  of  the  danger.  The  Wasp  knows 
how  disastrous  the  presence  of  the  hateful 
Gnat  may  be  to  the  future  of  the  nest;  on 
this  point  her  prolonged  attempts  to  put  off 
the  Tachinae,  her  hesitations,  her  flights  leave 
not  the  shadow  of  a  doubt.  Then  how  is  it, 
I  ask  myself  once  more,  that  the  Fly-huntress 
allows  herself  to  be  worried  by  another  of 
the  tribe,  by  an  infinitesimal  bandit,  incapable 
of  the  least  resistance,  whom  she  could  reach 
with  a  sudden  rush  if  she  tried?  Why  not 
relieve  herself  of  the  prey  that  clogs  her 
movements  and  swoop  down  upon  those  evil- 
doers? What  would  be  needed  to  extermi- 
nate the  ill-omened  brood  that  hangs  around 
the  burrow?  A  battue  that  would  take  her 
a  few  seconds.  But  the  harmony  of  the  uni- 
verse, the  laws  that  regulate  the  preserva- 
tion of  species  will  not  have  it  so;  and  the 
Bembex  will  always  allow  themselves  to  be 
harassed  without  ever  learning  from  the 
321 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

famous  "  struggle  for  life "  the  radical 
method  of  extermination.  I  have  seen  them 
sometimes,  when  too  close-pressed  by  the 
Midges,  drop  their  prey  and  fly  away  in  mad 
haste,  but  without  any  hostile  demonstration, 
though  the  putting  down  of  the  burden  left 
them  quite  free  in  their  movements.  The 
abandoned  prey,  but  now  so  ardently  coveted 
by  the  Tachinae,  lay  on  the  ground,  for  all  to 
do  as  they  pleased  with;  and  not  one  of  them 
took  any  notice  of  it.  This  game  lying  in 
the  open  air  had  no  value  for  the  Midges, 
whose  larvae  require  the  shelter  of  a  burrow. 
It  was  valueless  also  to  the  suspicious  Bem- 
bex,  who,  on  returning,  felt  it  for  a  moment 
and  left  it  with  scorn.  A  momentary  break 
in  her  vigilance  had  made  her  doubtful  of 
it. 

We  will  end  this  chapter  with  the  story 
of  the  larva.  Its  monotonous  life  offers  no- 
thing remarkable  in  the  fortnight  during 
which  it  eats  and  grows.  Next  comes  the 
construction  of  the  cocoon.  The  meagre  de- 
velopment of  the  silk-producing  organs  does 
not  allow  the  grub  a  dwelling  of  pure  silk, 
composed,  like  those  of  the  Ammophilas  and 
the  Sphex,  of  several  wrappers,  one  outside 
the  other,  which  protect  the  larva  and  after- 
322 


The  Cocoon 

wards  the  nymph  against  the  inroads  of 
damp  in  a  shallow  and  exposed  burrow  when 
the  rains  of  autumn  come  and  the  snows  of 
winter.  Nevertheless,  the  Bembex'  burrow 
is  in  a  worse  plight  than  that  of  the  Sphex, 
being  situated  at  a  depth  of  a  few  inches  in 
easily  saturated  soil.  Therefore,  in  order 
to  construct  itself  an  adequate  shelter,  the 
larva  makes  up  by  its  industry  for  its  small 
quantity  of  silk.  With  grains  of  sand  art- 
istically put  together  and  cemented  with  the 
silky  material  it  builds  itself  an  exceedingly 
solid  cocoon,  impenetrable  to  damp. 

Three  general  methods  are  employed  by 
the  Digger-wasps  in  constructing  the  sanctum 
in  which  the  metamorphosis  is  to  take  place. 
Some  dig  their  burrows  at  great  depths,  un- 
der shelter:  their  cocoon  then  consists  of  a 
single  envelope,  so  thin  as  to  be  transparent. 
This  is  the  case  with  the  Philanthi  and  the 
Cerceres.  Others  are  content  with  a  shallow 
burrow  in  open  ground;  but  in  that  case  they 
sometimes  have  enough  silk  to  increase  the 
number  of  wrappers  for  the  cocoon,  as  we 
see  with  the  Sphex,  the  Ammophilae  and  the 
Scoliae,  or  sometimes  the  quantity  of  silk 
is  insufficient,  when  they  have  recourse  to 
gummed  sand,  this  being  the  method  prac- 
323 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

tised  by  the  Bembex,  the  Stizi  and  the  Palari. 
A  Bembex-cocoon  is  so  compact  and  strong 
that  it  might  be  taken  for  the  kernel  of  some 
seed.  The  form  is  cylindrical,  with  one  end 
rounded  and  the  other  pointed.  The  length 
is  about  three-quarters  of  an  inch.  On 
the  outside  it  is  slightly  wrinkled  and  rather 
coarse  to  look  at;  but  the  inner  walls  are 
glazed  with  a  fine  varnish. 

My  experiments  in  indoor  breeding  have 
enabled  me  to  observe  every  detail  of  the 
construction  of  this  architectural  curiosity,  a 
regular  strong-box  inside  which  the  inclemen- 
cies of  the  weather  can  be  braved  in  safety. 
The  larva  first  pushes  away  the  remains  of 
its  food  and  forces  them  into  a  corner  of  the 
cell  or  compartment  which  I  have  arranged 
for  it  in  a  box  with  paper  partitions.  Hav- 
ing swept  the  floor,  it  fixes  at  the  different 
walls  of  its  dwelling  threads  of  a  beautiful 
white  silk,  forming  a  spidery  web  which 
keeps  off  the  cumbrous  heap  of  broken 
victuals  and  serves  as  a  scaffolding  for  the 
next  work. 

This  work  consists  of  a  hammock  slung 
far  from  any  dirt,  in  the  centre  of  the 
threads  stretched  from  wall  to  wall.  No- 
thing but  silk,  magnificently  fine,  white  silk, 
324 


The  Cocoon 

enters  into  its  composition.  Its  shape  is  that 
of  a  sack  open  at  one  end  with  a  wide  cir- 
cular mouth,  closed  at  the  other  and  ending 
in  a  point.  An  eel-trap  would  give  a  very 
fair  picture  of  it.  The  edges  of  the  mouth 
are  kept  apart  and  permanently  stretched  by 
numerous  threads  starting  from  there  and 
fastened  to  the  adjoining  walls.  Lastly,  the 
texture  of  this  sack  is  extremely  fine  and  al- 
lows us  to  see  all  the  grub's  proceedings. 

Things  had  been  in  this  condition  since  the 
day  before,  when  I  heard  the  larva  scratching 
in  the  box.  I  opened  it  and  found  my  pris- 
oner engaged  in  scraping  the  cardboard  wall 
with  its  mandibles,  while  its  body  was  half 
outside  the  sack.  The  cardboard  had  al- 
ready suffered  considerably  and  a  heap  of 
tiny  fragments  were  piled  in  front  of  the 
opening  of  the  hammock,  to  be  used  later. 
For  lack  of  other  materials,  the  grub  would 
doubtless  have  employed  these  scrapings  for 
its  building.  I  thought  it  better  to  provide 
something  in  accordance  with  its  tastes  and 
to  give  it  sand.  Never  had  Bembex-larva 
built  with  such  sumptuous  materials.  I 
poured  before  the  captive  sand  from  my  ink- 
stand: blotting-sand,  blue  sand  sprinkled 
with  little  gilt  mica  spangles. 
325 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

This  supply  is  placed  in  front  of  the  mouth 
of  the  bag.  The  bag  itself  is  in  a  horizontal 
position,  which  is  convenient  for  the  coming 
task.  The  larva,  leaning  half  out  of  the 
hammock,  picks  up  its  sand  almost  grain  by 
grain,  rummaging  in  the  heap  with  its  mandi- 
bles. If  any  grain  is  found  to  be  too  bulky, 
the  grub  takes  it  and  throws  it  away.  When 
the  sand  is  thus  sorted,  the  larva  introduces 
a  certain  quantity  into  the  silken  edifice  by 
sweeping  it  with  its  mouth.  This  done,  it 
retires  into  the  eel-trap  and  begins  to  spread 
the  materials  in  a  uniform  layer  on  the  lower 
surface  of  the  sack;  then  it  gums  the  different 
grains  and  inlays  them  in  the  fabric,  using 
silk  as  cement.  The  upper  surface  is  built 
more  slowly:  the  grains  are  carried  up  one 
by  one  and  fixed  on  with  the  silken  putty. 

This  first  layer  of  sand  as  yet  embraces 
only  the  front  half  of  the  cocoon,  the  half 
that  ends  at  the  mouth  of  the  bag.  Before 
turning  round  to  work  at  the  back  half,  the 
grub  renews  its  supply  of  materials  and 
takes  certain  precautions  so  as  not  to  be  hin- 
dered in  its  mason's  work.  The  sand  out- 
side, heaped  up  in  front  of  the  entrance, 
might  slip  inside  and  embarrass  the  builder 
in  so  narrow  a  space.  The  grub  foresees 
326 


The  Cocoon 

this  possibility :  it  glues  a  few  grains  together 
and  makes  a  rough  curtain  of  sand,  which 
stops  up  the  orifice  very  imperfectly,  but 
sufficiently  to  prevent  an  accident.  Having 
taken  these  precautions,  the  larva  works  at 
the  back  half  of  the  cocoon.  From  time  to 
time,  it  turns  round  to  fetch  fresh  supplies 
from  outside,  tearing  a  corner  of  the  cur- 
tain that  protects  it  against  the  outer  sand 
and  grabbing  through  this  window  the  ma- 
terials which  it  requires. 

The  cocoon  is  still  incomplete,  wide  open 
at  the  big  end;  it  wants  the  spherical  cap 
that  is  to  close  it.  For  this  final  labour  the 
grub  takes  a  plentiful  supply  of  sand,  the 
last  supply  of  all,  and  then  pushes  away  the 
heap  outside  the  entrance.  At  the  opening 
it  now  weaves  a  silken  cap,  which  fits  the 
mouth  of  the  primitive  eel-trap  precisely. 
Lastly,  grains  of  sand,  kept  in  reserve  in- 
side, are  laid  one  by  one  upon  this  silken 
foundation  and  glued  together  with  silky 
slime.  Having  finished  this  lid,  the  larva 
has  nothing  else  to  do  but  give  the  last  finish 
to  the  inside  of  the  abode  and  glaze  the 
walls  with  varnish  to  protect  its  delicate  skin 
against  the  rough  sand. 

The  hammock  of  pure  silk  and  the  hemi- 
327 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

sphere  that  closes  it  later  are,  as  we  see,  but 
a  scaffolding  intended  to  support  the  ma- 
sonry of  sand  and  give  it  a  regular  curve; 
they  might  be  compared  with  the  wooden 
moulds  which  builders  set  up  when  construct- 
ing an  arch,  a  vault.  Once  the  work  is  done, 
the  timber  frame  is  taken  away  and  the 
vault  is  sustained  by  virtue  of  its  perfect  ba- 
lance. Even  so,  when  the  cocoon  is  finished, 
the  silken  support  disappears,  partly  lost  in 
the  masonry,  partly  destroyed  by  contact 
with  the  coarse  earth;  and  not  a  trace  re- 
mains of  the  ingenious  method  followed  in 
welding  together  materials  with  so  little  con- 
sistency as  sand  into  a  building  of  such  per- 
fect regularity. 

The  round  cap  closing  the  mouth  of  the 
original  eel-trap  is  a  work  apart,  adjusted  to 
the  main  body  of  the  cocoon.  However 
well  the  two  parts  are  fitted  and  soldered, 
the  solidity  is  not  the  same  as  the  larva  would 
obtain  if  it  built  its  whole  dwelling  continu- 
ously. The  circumference  of  the  lid  there- 
fore has  a  circular  line  of  least  resistance. 
But  this  is  not  a  fault  of  construction;  on  the 
contrary,  it  is  a  fresh  improvement.  The  in- 
sect would  find  grave  difficulty  in  issuing  later 
from  its  strong-box,  so  stout  are  the  walls. 
328 


The  Cocoon 

The  line  of  junction,  weaker  than  the  others, 
would  seem  to  save  it  a  good  deal  of  effort, 
for  it  is  mostly  along  this  line  that  the  cover 
is  removed  when  the  Bembex  emerges  from 
the  ground  in  the  perfect  state. 

I  have  called  this  cocoon  a  strong-box. 
It  is  indeed  a  very  solid  piece  of  work,  both 
from  its  shape  and  from  the  nature  of  its 
materials.  Landslips  or  subsidences  cannot 
alter  its  outline,  for  the  strongest  pressure  of 
one's  fingers  does  not  always  succeed  in 
crushing  it.  Therefore  it  matters  little  to 
the  larva  if  the  ceiling  of  its  burrow,  dug  in 
loose  soil,  should  fall  in  sooner  or  later;  it 
does  not  care  much  if  a  passing  foot  should 
press  upon  it  under  its  thin  covering  of  sand; 
it  has  nothing  to  fear  once  it  is  enclosed  in 
its  stout  bulwark.  Nor  does  damp  endanger 
it.  I  have  kept  Bembex-cocoons  immersed 
in  water  for  a  fortnight  at  a  time  without 
afterwards  discovering  the  least  trace  of 
dampness  inside  them.  Why  have  we  no 
such  waterproofing  for  our  dwellings! 

Lastly,  thanks  to  its  graceful  oval,  this 
cocoon  seems  rather  the  product  of  some 
elaborate  manufacture  than  that  of  a  grub. 
To  any  one  unacquainted  with  the  secret,  the 
cocoons  which  I  had  built  with  blotting-sand 
329 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

might  have  been  jewels  of  some  unknown 
workmanship,  great  beads  studded  with 
golden  spots  on  a  lapis-lazuli  ground,  de- 
stined to  form  the  necklace  of  a  Polynesian 
belle. 


330 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE   RETURN  TO  THE   NEST 


Ammophila  sinking  her  well  at  a 
late  hour  of  the  day  leaves  her  work, 
after  closing  the  orifice  with  a  stone  lid,  flits 
away  from  flower  to  flower,  goes  to  another 
part  of  the  country  and  yet  next  day  is  able 
to  come  back  with  her  caterpillar  to  the  home 
excavated  on  the  day  before,  notwithstand- 
ing the  unfamiliar  locality,  which  is  often 
quite  new  to  her.  The  Bembex,  laden  with 
game,  alights  with  almost  mathematical  pre- 
cision on  the  threshold  of  her  door,  which  is 
blocked  with  sand  and  indistinguishable  from 
the  rest  of  the  sandy  expanse.  Where  my 
sight  and  recollection  are  at  fault,  their  eyes 
and  their  memory  possess  a  sureness  that  is 
very  nearly  infallible.  One  would  think  that 
insects  had  something  more  subtle  than  mere 
remembrance,  a  kind  of  intuition  for  places 
to  which  we  have  nothing  similar,  in  short, 
an  indefinable  faculty  which  I  call  memory, 
failing  any  other  expression  to  denote  it. 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

There  can  be  no  name  for  the  unknown.  In 
order  to  throw  if  possible  a  little  light  on 
this  detail  of  animal  psychology,  I  made  a 
series  of  experiments  which  I  will  now  de- 
scribe.1 

The  first  has  for  its  subject  the  Great  Cer- 
ceris,  who  hunts  Cleonus-weevils.  About  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  I  catch  twelve  fe- 
males, all  belonging  to  the  same  colony  and 
at  work  on  the  same  bank,  busy  digging  bur- 
rows or  victualling  them.  Each  prisoner  is 
placed  separately  in  a  little  paper  bag  and 
the  whole  lot  put  in  a  box.  I  walk  about  a 
mile  and  a  half  from  the  site  of  the  nests  and 
then  release  my  Cerceres,  first  taking  care, 
so  that  I  may  know  them  later,  to  mark  them 
with  a  white  dot  in  the  middle  of  the  thorax, 
using  a  straw  dipped  in  indelible  paint. 

The  Wasps  fly  only  a  few  yards  away,  in 
every  direction,  one  here,  another  there; 
they  settle  on  blades  of  grass,  pass  their  fore- 
tarsi  over  their  eyes  for  a  moment,  as  though 
dazzled  by  the  bright  sunshine  to  which  they 
have  suddenly  been  restored;  then  they  take 
flight,  some  sooner,  some  later,  and  all,  with- 
out hesitation,  make  straight  for  the  south, 

^or  other   essays  on   the   homing  of   insects,   cf.    The 
Mason-bees:  chaps,  ii  to  vi. —  Translator's  Note, 
333 


The  Return  to  the  Nest 

that  is  to  say,  for  home.  Five  hours  later,  I 
return  to  the  common  site  of  the  nests.  I  am 
hardly  there  when  I  see  two  of  my  Cerceres 
with  white  dots  working  at  the  burrows; 
soon  a  third  arrives  from  the  fields,  with  a 
Weevil  between  her  legs;  a  fourth  is  not  slow 
in  following.  The  recognition  of  four  out 
of  twelve  in  less  than  fifteen  minutes  was 
enough  to  convince  me.  I  thought  it  unne- 
cessary to  wait  any  longer.  What  four  could 
do  the  others  would  do,  if  they  had  not  al- 
ready done  it;  and  I  was  quite  at  liberty  to 
presume  that  the  absent  eight  were  out  hunt- 
ing or  else  hidden  in  their  underground  gal- 
leries. Therefore,  carried  for  a  mile  and  a 
half  in  a  direction  and  by  a  road  of  which 
they  could  not  have  taken  cognizance  in  their 
paper  prisons,  the  Cerceres,  or  at  least  some 
of  them,  had  returned  home. 

I  do  not  know  how  far  the  Cerceres'  hunt- 
ing-grounds extend;  and  it  is  possible  that 
they  know  the  country  more  or  less  over  a 
radius  of  a  mile  and  a  half.  In  that  case, 
they  would  not  have  felt  sufficiently  lost  at 
the  spot  to  which  I  moved  them  and  they 
would  have  got  home  by  their  acquired  local 
knowledge.  The  experiment  had  to  be  re- 
peated, at  a  greater  distance  and  from  a 
333 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

starting-point  which  the  Wasp  could  not  be 
suspected  of  knowing. 

I  therefore  take  nine  female  Cerceres  from 
the  same  group  of  burrows  that  supplied  me 
in  the  morning.  Three  of  them  had  just 
been  subjected  to  the  previous  test.  They 
were  again  carried  in  a  dark  box,  each  insect 
enclosed  in  its  paper  bag.  The  starting- 
point  selected  is  the  nearest  town,  Carpen- 
tras,  which  lies  at  about  two  miles  from  the 
burrow.  I  am  to  release  my  insects  not 
among  the  fields,  as  on  the  first  occasion,  but 
absolutely  in  the  street,  in  the  centre  of  a 
crowded  neighbourhood,  where  the  Cerceres, 
with  their  rustic  habits,  had  certainly  never 
penetrated.  As  the  day  is  already  far-ad- 
vanced, I  postpone  the  experiments;  and  my 
captives  spend  the  night  in  their  prison-cells. 

Next  morning,  at  about  eight,  I  mark 
them  on  the  thorax  with  two  white  spots,  to 
distinguish  them  from  yesterday's  lot,  who 
were  marked  with  only  one;  and  I  set  them 
free,  one  after  the  other,  in  the  middle  of  the 
street.  Each  Cerceris  released  first  shoots 
straight  up  between  the  two  rows  of  houses, 
as  though  to  escape  as  soon  as  possible  from 
the  narrow  street  and  gain  the  spacious  hori- 
zons; then,  rising  above  the  roofs,  she  at 
334 


The  Return  to  the  Nest 

once  darts  away  vigorously  towards  the 
south.  And  it  was  from  the  south  that  I 
brought  them;  it  is  in  the  south  that  their 
burrows  are.  Nine  times,  with  nine  prison- 
ers, freed  one  after  the  other,  I  had  this 
striking  instance  of  the  way  in  which  the  in- 
sect stranded  far  from  home  takes  without 
hesitation  the  right  direction  for  returning 
to  the  nest. 

I  myself  was  at  the  burrows  a  few  hours 
later.  I  saw  several  of  yesterday's  Cer- 
ceres,  recognizing  them  by  the  one  white 
spot  on  the  thorax;  but  I  saw  none  of  those 
whom  I  had  just  let  loose.  Had  they  not 
been  able  to  find  their  home  again?  Were 
they  hunting?  Or  were  they  hiding  in  their 
galleries  to  recover  from  the  excitement  of 
such  a  trial?  I  do  not  know.  Next  day,  I 
paid  a  fresh  visit;  and  this  time  I  had  the 
satisfaction  of  finding  at  work,  as  active  as 
though  nothing  out  of  the  way  had  hap- 
pened, five  of  the  Cerceres  with  two  white 
spots  on  the  thorax.  A  journey  of  quite  two 
miles,  the  town  with  its  houses,  its  roofs,  its 
smoky  chimneys,  all  things  so  new  to  these 
utter  rustics,  had  not  prevented  them  from 
going  back  to  the  nest. 

When  taken  from  his  brood  and  carried 
335 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

to  enormous  distances,  the  Pigeon  returns 
promptly  to  the  Dovecote.  If  we  wanted  to 
work  out  a  proportion  between  the  length  of 
the  journey  and  the  size  of  the  creature,  how 
greatly  superior  to  the  Pigeon  would  be  the 
Cerceris,  who  finds  her  burrow  after  being 
carried  a  distance  of  two  miles!  The  bulk 
of  the  insect  is  not  a  cubic  centimetre,1 
whereas  that  of  the  Pigeon  must  be  quite  a 
cubic  decimetre,2  if  not  more.  The  bird, 
being  a  thousand  times  larger  than  the 
Wasp,  ought  therefore,  in  order  to  rival  her, 
to  find  the  Dovecote  at  a  distance  of  two 
thousand  miles,  which  is  thrice  the  greatest 
length  of  France  from  north  to  south.  I  do 
not  know  that  a  Carrier-pigeon  has  ever  per- 
formed such  a  feat.  But  power  of  flight 
and,  still  less,  lucidity  of  instinct  are  qualities 
that  cannot  be  measured  by  the  yard.  Com- 
parative size  cannot  here  be  taken  into  con- 
sideration; and  we  must  just  look  upon  the 
insect  as  a  worthy  rival  of  the  bird,  without 
deciding  which  of  the  two  has  the  advantage. 
In  returning  to  the  Dovecote  and  the  bur- 
row, when  man  has  artificially  made  them 
lose  their  bearings  and  carried  them  to  great 

*.o6i   cubic  inch. —  Translator's  Note. 
*6i    cubic   inches.—  Translator's  Note, 


The  Return  to  the  Nest 

distances,  in  unfamiliar  directions  and  into 
regions  which  they  have  not  yet  visited,  are 
the  Pigeon  and  the  Cerceris  guided  by  recol- 
lection? Is  memory  their  compass  when,  on 
reaching  a  certain  height,  whence  they  can, 
so  to  speak,  pick  up  the  scent  after  a  fashion, 
they  dart  with  all  their  power  of  wing 
towards  the  horizon  where  their  nests  are? 
Is  it  memory  that  traces  their  road  through 
the  air,  across  regions  which  they  are  seeing 
for  the  first  time  ?  Obviously  not :  there  can 
be  no  recollection  of  the  unknown.  The 
Wasp  and  the  bird  are  unacquainted  with  the 
country  around;  nothing  can  have  told  them 
the  general  direction  in  which  they  were 
moved,  for  the  journey  was  made  in  the 
darkness  of  a  closed  basket  or  a  box.  Lo- 
cality, relative  position:  everything  is  un^ 
known  to  them;  and  yet  they  find  their  way. 
They  therefore  have  something  better  than 
mere  memory  as  a  guide :  they  have  a  special 
faculty,  a  sort  of  topographical  sense  of 
which  we  cannot  possibly  form  an  idea,  hav- 
ing nothing  similar  ourselves. 

I  will  show  by  experiment  how  subtle  and 
precise  this  faculty  is  within  its  narrow  pro- 
vince and  also  how  obtuse  and  dull  it  be- 
comes when  driven  to  depart  from  the  usual 
337 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

conditions  in  which  it  acts.     This  is  the  in- 
variable antithesis  of  instinct. 

A  Bembex,  actively  engaged  in  feeding 
her  larva,  leaves  the  burrow.  She  will  re- 
turn presently  with  the  produce  of  the  chase. 
The  entrance  is  carefully  stopped  up  with 
sand,  which  the  insect  has  swept  there  back- 
wards before  going  away;  there  is  nothing  to 
distinguish  it  from  other  points  of  the  sandy 
surface ;  but  this  does  not  trouble  the  Wasp, 
who  finds  her  door  with  a  skill  which  I  have 
already  emphasized.  Let  us  devise  some  in- 
sidious plot  and  change  the  conditions  of  the 
locality  in  order  to  perplex  the  insect.  I 
cover  the  entrance  with  a  flat  stone,  the  size 
of  my  hand.  The  Wasp  soon  arrives. 
The  great  change  effected  on  her  threshold 
during  her  absence  appears  to  cause  her  not 
the  slightest  hesitation;  at  least,  the  Bembex 
at  once  alights  upon  the  stone  and  tries,  for 
an  instant,  to  dig  into  it,  not  at  random  but 
at  a  spot  corresponding  with  the  opening  of 
the  burrow.  The  hardness  of  the  obstacle 
soon  dissuades  her  from  her  enterprise. 
She  then  runs  about  the  stone  in  every  direc- 
tion, goes  all  round  it,  slips  underneath  and 
begins  to  dig  in  the  exact  direction  of  her 
dwelling. 

338 


The  Return  to  the  Nest 

The  flat  stone  is  not  enough  to  mislead 
our  wide-awake  friend;  we  must  find  some- 
thing better.  To  cut  things  short,  I  do  not 
allow  the  Bembex  to  continue  her  excava- 
tions, which,  I  can  see,  will  soon  prove  suc- 
cessful; I  drive  her  off  with  my  handkerchief. 
The  fairly  long  absence  of  the  frightened 
insect  will  give  me  time  to  prepare  my  snares 
at  leisure.  What  materials  shall  I  employ 
now?  In  these  improvised  experiments,  we 
must  know  how  to  turn  everything  to  use. 
Not  far  off,  on  the  high-road,  are  the  fresh 
droppings  of  some  beast  of  burden.  The 
very  thing!  The  droppings  are  collected, 
broken  up,  crumbled  and  then  spread  in  a 
layer  at  least  an  inch  thick  on  the  threshold 
of  the  burrow  and  all  around,  covering  about 
a  quarter  of  a  square  yard.  This  certainly 
is  a  house-front  the  like  of  which  no  Bembex 
ever  knew.  The  colouring,  the  nature  of 
the  materials,  the  stercoral  effluvia  all  com- 
bine to  mystify  the  Wasp.  Will  she  take  all 
this  —  that  expanse  of  manure,  that  dung  — 
for  the  front  of  her  door  ?  Why,  yes :  here 
she  comes  I  She  inspects  the  unwonted  con- 
dition of  the  place  from  above  and  settles  in 
the  middle  of  the  layer,  just  opposite  the  en- 
trance. She  digs,  makes  a  hole  through  the 
339 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

stringy  mass  and  reaches  the  sand,  where 
she  at  once  finds  the  orifice  of  the  passage. 
I  stop  her  and  drive  her  away  a  second  time. 

Is  not  the  precision  with  which  the  Wasp 
alights  just  in  front  of  her  door,  though  this 
be  masked  in  a  way  so  new  to  her,  a  proof 
that  sight  and  memory  are  not  her  only 
guide?  What  else  can  there  be?  Could  it 
be  scent?  It  is  very  doubtful,  for  the  ema- 
nations from  the  droppings  have  not  been 
able  to  baffle  the  insect's  perspicacity.  Still, 
let  us  try  a  different  smell.  I  happen  to 
have  on  me,  as  part  of  my  entomological 
luggage,  a  small  phial  of  ether.  I  sweep 
away  the  sheet  of  manure  and  replace  it  by 
a  blanket  of  moss,  not  very  thick,  but  spread- 
ing to  a  considerable  distance;  and  I  pour 
the  contents  of  my  phial  on  it  as  soon  as  I 
see  the  Bembex  arrive.  The  ethereal  fumes, 
at  first  too  strong,  keep  the  Wasp  away,  but 
only  for  a  moment.  Then  she  alights  on 
the  moss,  which  still  exhales  a  very  percepti- 
ble smell  of  ether,  passes  through  the  ob- 
stacle and  makes  her  way  indoors.  The 
ethereal  effluvia  put  her  out  no  more  than 
did  the  stercoral  effluvia.  Something  surer 
than  scent  tells  her  where  her  nest  lies. 

The  antennae  have  often  been  suggested  as 
340 


The  Return  to  the  Nest 

the  seat  of  a  special  sense  able  to  guide  in- 
sects. I  have  already  shown  how  the  am- 
putation of  those  organs  seems  in  no  way 
to  impede  the  Wasp's  investigations.  Let 
us  try  once  more,  under  more  complicated 
conditions.  I  seize  the  Bembex,  cut  off  her 
antennae  at  the  roots  and  at  once  release  her. 
Goaded  by  pain,  maddened  at  having  been 
imprisoned  in  my  fingers,  the  insect  darts  off 
faster  than  an  arrow.  I  have  to  wait  for  a 
good  hour,  very  uncertain  as  to  whether  it 
will  come  back.  The  Wasp  arrives  however 
and,  with  her  unvarying  precision,  alights 
quite  close  to  her  door,  whose  appearance  I 
have  changed  for  the  fourth  time.  The  site 
of  the  nest  is  now  covered  with  a  spreading 
mosaic  of  pebbles  the  size  of  a  walnut.  My 
work,  which,  as  regards  the  Bembex,  sur- 
passes what  the  megalithic  monuments  of 
Brittany  or  the  rows  of  menhirs  at  Carnac 
are  to  us,  is  powerless  to  deceive  the  muti- 
lated insect.  Though  deprived  of  her  an- 
tennae, the  Wasp  finds  her  entrance  in  the 
middle  of  my  mosaic  as  easily  as  the  same 
insect,  supplied  with  those  organs,  would 
have  done  under  other  conditions.  This 
time  I  let  the  faithful  mother  go  indoors  in 
peace. 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

Four  successive  alterations  in  the  site; 
changes  in  the  colour,  the  smell,  the  materials 
of  the  outside  of  the  home;  lastly,  the  pain 
of  a  double  wound:  all  had  failed  to  baffle 
the  Wasp  or  even  to  make  her  waver  as  to 
the  precise  locality  of  her  door.  I  had  come 
to  the  end  of  my  stratagems  and  understood 
less  than  ever  how  the  insect,  if  it  possess  no 
special  guide  in  some  faculty  unknown  to  us, 
can  find  its  way  when  sight  and  scent  are 
baffled  by  the  artifices  which  I  have  men- 
tioned. 

A  few  days  later,  a  lucky  experiment  re- 
opened the  question  and  allowed  me  to 
study  it  under  another  aspect.  In  this  case, 
we  uncover  the  Bembex'  burrow  all  the  way 
along,  without  changing  its  appearance  too 
much,  an  operation  made  easier  by  the  shal- 
lowness  of  the  burrow,  its  almost  horizontal 
direction  and  the  lack  of  consistency  of  the 
soil  in  which  it  is  dug.  With  this  object  we 
scrape  the  sand  away  gradually  with  a  knife. 
Thus  deprived  of  its  roof  from  end  to  end, 
the  underground  dwelling  becomes  an  open 
trench,  a  conduit,  straight  or  curved,  some 
eight  inches  long,  open  at  the  spot  where  the 
entrance-door  used  to  be  and  finishing  in  a 
342 


The  Return  to  the  Nest 

blind  alley  at  the  other  end,  where  the  larva 
lies  amid  its  victuals. 

Here  is  the  home  uncovered,  in  the  bright 
light,  under  the  sun's  rays.  How  will  the 
mother  behave  on  her  return?  Let  us  con- 
sider the  question  in  detail,  according  to  sci- 
entific precepts :  it  is  a  perplexing  position  for 
the  observer,  as  my  recent  experiences  make 
me  suspect.  Here  is  the  problem :  the  mother 
on  arriving  has  the  feeding  of  her  larva  as 
her  object  in  view;  but  to  reach  this  larva 
she  must  first  find  the  door.  The  grub  and 
the  entrance-door:  those  are  the  two  aspects 
of  the  question  that  appear  to  me  to  merit 
separate  consideration.  I  therefore  take 
away  the  grub,  together  with  the  provisions, 
and  the  end  of  the  passage  becomes  a  clear 
space.  After  making  these  preparations 
there  is  nothing  to  do  but  exercise  patience. 

The  Wasp  arrives  at  last  and  goes 
straight  to  where  its  door  ought  to  be,  that 
door  of  which  naught  but  the  threshold  re- 
mains. Here,  for  more  than  an  hour,  I  see 
her  digging  on  the  surface,  sweeping,  making 
the  sand  fly  and  persisting,  not  in  scooping 
out  a  new  gallery,  but  in  looking  for  that 
loose  door  which  ought  easily  to  give  way 
343 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

before  a  mere  push  of  the  head  and  let  the 
insect  through.  Instead  of  yielding  ma- 
terials, she  finds  firm  soil,  not  yet  disturbed. 
Warned  by  this  resistance,  she  confines  her- 
self to  exploring  the  surface,  always  in  close 
proximity  to  the  spot  where  the  entrance 
should  be.  A  few  inches  on  either  side  is  all 
that  she  allows  herself.  The  places  which 
she  has  already  tested  and  swept  twenty 
times  over  she  returns  to  test  and  sweep 
again,  unable  to  bring  herself  to  leave  her 
narrow  radius,  so  obstinate  is  her  conviction 
that  the  door  must  be  here  and  no  elsewhere. 
Several  times  in  succession  I  push  her  gently 
with  a  straw  to  some  other  point.  She  will 
not  be  put  off :  she  returns  straightway  to  the 
place  where  her  door  once  stood.  At  rare 
intervals,  the  gallery,  now  an  open  trench, 
seems  to  attract  her  attention,  though  very 
faintly.  The  Bembex  takes  a  few  steps 
towards  it,  still  raking,  and  then  goes  back 
to  the  entrance.  Twice  or  thrice  I  see  her 
run  the  whole  length  of  the  conduit  and 
reach  the  blind  alley,  the  abode  of  her  grub; 
here  she  gives  a  few  careless  strokes  of  the 
rake  and  hurries  back  to  the  spot  where  the 
entrance  used  to  be,  continuing  her  quest 
there  with  a  persistency  that  ends  by  weary- 
344 


The  Return  to  the  Nest 

ing  mine.  More  than  an  hour  has  passed 
and  the  stubborn  Wasp  is  still  pursuing  her 
search  on  the  site  of  the  vanished  doorway. 

What  will  happen  when  the  larva  is  pre- 
sent? This  is  the  next  aspect  of  the  question. 
To  continue  the  experiment  with  the  same 
Bembex  would  not  have  given  me  the  posi- 
tive evidence  which  I  wanted,  for  the  insect, 
rendered  more  obstinate  by  its  vain  quest, 
seemed  to  me  now  obsessed  by  a  fixed  idea, 
which  would  certainly  have  obscured  the 
facts  which  I  wished  to  ascertain.  I  needed 
a  fresh  subject,  one  not  overexcited  and 
solely  concerned  with  the  impulses  of  the 
first  moment.  An  opportunity  soon  pre- 
sented itself. 

I  uncover  the  burrow  from  end  to  end  as 
I  have  just  explained,  but  without  touching 
the  contents :  I  leave  the  larva  in  its  place,  I 
respect  the  provisions;  everything  in  the 
house  is  in  order;  there  is  nothing  lacking 
but  the  roof.  Well,  in  front  of  this  open 
dwelling,  of  which  the  eye  freely  takes  in 
every  detail:  entrance-hall,  gallery,  cell  at 
the  bask  with  the  grub  and  its  heap  of  Flies ; 
in  front  of  this  dwelling  now  a  trench,  at  the 
end  of  which  the  larva  wriggles  under  the 
blistering  rays  of  the  sun,  the  mother  be- 
345 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

haves  exactly  as  her  predecessor  did.  She 
alights  at  the  point  where  the  entrance  used 
to  be.  It  is  here  that  she  does  her  digging 
and  sweeping;  and  it  is  here  that  she  always 
returns  after  hurried  visits  elsewhere,  within 
a  radius  of  a  few  inches.  There  is  no  ex- 
ploration of  the  tunnel,  no  anxiety  about  the 
tortured  larva.  The  grub,  whose  delicate 
epidermis  has  just  passed  from  the  cool 
moisture  of  an  underground  cave  to  the 
fierce  blaze  of  an  untempered  sun,  is  writh- 
ing on  its  heap  of  chewed  Flies;  the  mother 
does  not  give  it  a  thought.  To  her  it  is  no 
more  than  any  other  object  lying  on  the  sand: 
a  little  pebble,  a  pellet  of  earth,  a  scrap  of 
dry  mud,  nothing  more.  It  is  unworthy  of 
attention.  This  tender  and  faithful  mother, 
who  wears  herself  out  in  trying  to  reach  her 
nurseling's  cradle,  is  wanting  at  the  moment 
her  entrance-door,  the  usual  door  and  no- 
thing but  that  door.  What  stirs  her  ma- 
ternal heart  is  her  yearning  for  the  well- 
known  passage.  And  yet  the  way  is  open: 
there  is  nothing  to  stop  the  mother;  and  the 
grub,  the  ultimate  object  of  her  anxiety,  is 
tossing  restlessly  before  her  eyes.  One 
bound  would  bring  her  to  the  side  of  the 
poor  thing  clamouring  for  assistance,  Why 
346 


The  Return  to  the  Nest 

does  she  not  rush  to  her  beloved  nurseling? 
She  could  dig  it  a  new  dwelling  and  swiftly 
place  it  in  safety  underground.  But  no :  the 
mother  persists  in  seeking  a  passage  that  no 
longer  exists,  while  her  child  is  grilling  in 
the  sun  before  her  eyes.  My  surprise  is  in- 
tense in  the  presence  of  this  short-sighted 
mother,  though  the  sense  of  motherhood  is 
the  most  powerful  and  resourceful  of  all  the 
feelings  that  stir  the  animal  creation.  I 
should  hardly  believe  the  evidence  of  my 
eyes  but  for  experiments  endlessly  repeated 
with  Cerceres  and  Philanthi  as  well  as  with 
Bembex  of  different  species. 

Here  is  something  more  remarkable  still: 
the  mother,  after  prolonged  hesitation,  at 
last  enters  the  roofless  trench,  all  that  re- 
mains of  the  original  corridor.  She  goes 
forward,  draws  back,  goes  forward  again, 
giving  a  few  careless  sweeps,  here  and  there, 
without  stopping.  Guided  by  vague  recol- 
lections and  perhaps  also  by  the  smell  of 
game  emitted  by  the  heap  of  Flies,  she  oc- 
casionally reaches  the  end  of  the  gallery,  the 
very  spot  at  which  the  larva  lies.  Mother 
and  son  are  now  together.  At  this  moment 
of  meeting  after  long  suffering,  have  we  a 
display  of  eager  solicitude,  exuberant  affec- 
347 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

tion,  any  signs  whatever  of  maternal  joy? 
If  you  think  so,  you  need  only  repeat  my  ex- 
periments to  persuade  yourself  to  the  con- 
trary. The  Bembex  does  not  recognize  her 
larva  at  all;  it  is  to  her  a  worthless  thing, 
something  in  her  way,  a  nuisance.  She 
walks  over  the  grub,  treads  on  it  ruthlessly, 
as  she  hurries  to  and  fro.  When  she  wants 
to  try  and  dig  at  the  bottom  of  the  cell,  she 
thrusts  it  back  with  a  brutal  kick;  she  shoves 
it  on  one  side,  topples  it  over,  flings  it  out  as 
unceremoniously  as  if  it  were  a  big  bit  of 
gravel  that  hindered  her  in  her  work.  Thus 
knocked  about,  the  grub  thinks  of  defending 
itself.  I  have  seen  it  seize  its  mother  by 
the  tarsus  with  no  more  ceremony  than  it 
shows  when  it  bites  off  the  leg  of  its  prey, 
the  Fly.  The  struggle  was  hotly  contested; 
but  at  last  the  fierce  mandibles  let  go  and  the 
mother  vanished  in  terror,  making  a  shrill 
whimpering  noise  with  her  wings.  This  un- 
natural sight  of  the  son  biting  his  mother 
and  perhaps  even  trying  to  eat  her  is  uncom- 
mon and  is  brought  about  by  circumstances 
which  the  observer  has  not  at  his  command; 
but  what  can  always  be  witnessed  is  the 
Wasp's  profound  indifference  towards  her 
offspring  and  the  brutal  contempt  with  which 
348 


The  Return  to  the  Nest 

she  treats  that  irksome  lump  of  rubbish,  the 
grub.  Once  she  has  raked  out  the  end  of 
the  passage,  which  is  the  work  of  a  moment, 
the  Bembex  returns  to  her  favourite  spot,  the 
threshold,  where  she  resumes  her  useless 
search.  As  for  the  grub,  it  continues  to 
writhe  and  wriggle  wherever  its  mother  has 
kicked  it.  It  will  die  without  the  mother's 
coming  to  its  assistance,  for  she  fails  to  re- 
cognize it  because  she  was  unable  to  find  the 
customary  passage.  Go  back  to-morrow 
and  you  shall  see  it  lying  in  its  trench,  half- 
baked  by  the  sun  and  already  a  prey  to  the 
very  Flies  that  were  once  its  prey. 

Such  is  the  concatenation  of  instinctive 
actions,  linked  one  to  the  other  in  an  order 
which  the  gravest  circumstances  are  power- 
less to  disturb.  What,  after  all,  is  the  Bem- 
bex looking  for?  Her  larva,  obviously. 
But,  to  get  at  that  larva,  she  must  enter  the 
burrow ;  and,  to  enter  that  burrow,  she  must 
first  of  all  find  the  door.  And  it  is  in  the 
search  for  this  door  that  the  mother  persists, 
despite  the  wide-open  gallery,  despite  the 
provisions,  despite  the  grub,  all  exposed  to 
view.  At  the  moment  she  cares  not  that 
her  house  is  in  ruins  and  her  family  in  dan- 
ger; what  she  wants  above  all  things  is  the 
349 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

familiar  passage,  the  passage  through  the 
loose  sand.  Perish  everything,  dwelling  and 
inmate,  if  this  passage  be  not  found!  Her 
actions  are  like  a  series  of  echoes  each  awa- 
kening the  next  in  a  settled  order,  which 
allows  none  to  sound  until  the  previous,  one 
has  sounded.  The  first  action  could  not  be 
performed,  not  because  of  an  obstacle,  for 
the  house  is  wide  open,  but  for  want  of  the 
usual  entrance.  That  is  enough:  the  sub- 
sequent actions  shall  not  be  performed;  the 
first  echo  was  dumb  and  all  the  rest  are 
silent.  What  a  gulf  separates  intelligence 
and  instinct!  Through  the  ruins  of  the  de- 
molished dwelling,  a  mother  guided  by  in- 
telligence hurries  straight  to  her  son;  guided 
by  instinct,  she  comes  to  a  stubborn  halt  on 
the  site  of  her  old  door. 


350 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE    HAIRY   AMMOPHILA 

ONE  day  in  May,  I  was  walking  up  and 
down,  on  the  look-out  for  anything 
fresh  that  might  be  taking  place  in  the  har- 
mas  l  laboratory.  Favier  was  not  far  off, 
at  work  in  the  kitchen-garden.  Who  is 
Favier?  I  may  as  well  say  a  few  words 
about  him  at  once,  for  we  shall  be  hearing 
of  him  again. 

Favier  is  an  old  soldier.  He  has  pitched 
his  hut  of  clay  and  branches  under  the  Afri- 
can carob-trees;  he  has  eaten  Sea-urchins  at 
Constantinople;  he  has  shot  Starlings  in  the 
Crimea,  during  a  lull  in  the  firing.  He  has 
seen  much  and  remembered  much.  In  win- 
ter, when  work  in  the  fields  ends  at  four 
o'clock  and  the  evenings  are  long,  he  puts 
away  rake,  fork  and  barrow  and  comes  and 
sits  on  the  hearth-stone  of  the  kitchen  fire- 
place, where  the  billets  of  ilex-wood  blaze 
merrily.  He  fetches  out  his  pipe,  fills  it 

1The  piece  of  waste  ground  on  which  the  author  used 
to  study  his  insects  in  their  natural  state.  Cf.  The  Life 
of  the  Fly:  chap.  i. —  Translator's  Note. 

351 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

methodically  with  a  moistened  thumb  and 
smokes  it  solemnly.  He  has  been  thinking 
of  it  for  many  a  long  hour;  but  he  has  ab- 
stained, for  tobacco  is  expensive.  The  pri- 
vation has  doubled  the  charm;  and  not  a 
puff,  recurring  at  regular  intervals,  is  wasted. 

Meanwhile,  we  start  talking.  Favier  is, 
in  his  fashion,  one  of  those  bards  of  old  who 
were  given  the  best  seat  at  the  hearth,  for 
the  sake  of  their  tales;  only,  my  story-teller 
was  formed  in  the  barrack-room.  No  mat- 
ter: the  whole  household,  large  and  small, 
listen  to  him  with  interest;  though  his  speech 
is  full  of  vivid  images,  it  is  always  decent.  It 
would  be  a  great  disappointment  to  us  if  he 
did  not  come,  when  his  work  was  done,  to 
take  his  ease  in  the  chimney-corner. 

What  does  he  talk  about  to  make  him  so 
popular?  He  tells  us  what  he  saw  of  the 
coup  d'Etat  to  which  we  owe  the  hated  Em- 
pire; he  talks  of  the  brandy  served  out  and 
of  the  firing  into  the  mob.  He  —  so  he 
assures  me  —  always  aimed  at  the  wall;  and 
I  accept  his  word  for  it,  so  distressed  does  he 
appear  to  me  and  so  ashamed  of  having 
taken  a  hand,  however  innocent,  in  that 
felon's  game. 

He  tells  us  of  his  watches  in  the  trenches 
352 


The  Hairy  Ammophila 

before  Sebastopol;  he  speaks  of  his  sudden 
terror  when,  at  night,  all  alone  on  outpost 
duty,  squatting  in  the  snow,  he  saw  fall  be- 
side him  what  he  calls  a  flower-pot.  It 
blazed  and  flared  and  shone  and  lit  up  every- 
thing around.  The  infernal  machine  threat- 
ened to  burst  at  every  second;  and  our  man 
gave  himself  up  for  lost.  But  nothing  hap- 
pened: the  flower-pot  went  out  quietly.  It 
was  a  star-shell,  an  illuminating-contrivance 
fired  to  reconnoitre  the  assailant's  outworks 
in  the  dark. 

The  tragedy  of  the  battle-field  is  followed 
by  the  comedy  of  the  barracks.  He  lets  us 
into  the  mysteries  of  the  stew-pan,  the  secrets 
of  the  mess,  the  humorous  hardships  of  the 
cells.  And,  as  his  stock  of  anecdotes,  sea- 
soned with  racy  expressions,  is  inexhaustible, 
the  supper-hour  arrives  before  any  of  us  has 
had  time  to  remark  how  long  the  evening  is. 

Favier  first  attracted  my  notice  by  a  mas- 
ter-stroke. One  of  my  friends  had  sent  me 
from  Marseilles  a  pair  of  enormous  Crabs, 
the  Maia,  the  Sea-spider  or  Spider-crab  of 
the  fishermen.  I  was  unpacking  the  cap- 
tives when  the  workmen  returned  from  their 
dinner:  painters,  stone-masons,  plasterers  en- 
gaged in  repairing  the  house  which  had  been 
353 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

empty  so  long.  At  the  sight  of  those 
strange  animals,  studded  with  spikes  all  over 
the  carapace  and  perched  on  long  legs  that 
give  them  a  certain  resemblance  to  a  mon- 
strous Spider,  the  onlookers  gave  a  cry  of 
surprise,  almost  of  alarm.  Favier,  for  his 
part,  remained  unmoved;  and,  as  he  skil- 
fully seized  the  terrible  Spider  struggling  to 
get  away,  he  said : 

"  I  know  that  thing;  I've  eaten  it  at 
Vasna.  It's  first-rate." 

And  he  looked  round  at  the  bystanders 
with  an  air  of  humorous  mockery  which  was 
meant  to  convey: 

"  You've  never  been  out  of  your  hole,  you 
people." 

One  more  story  of  him,  to  have  done.  A 
woman  living  in  his  neighbourhood  had  been, 
by  the  doctor's  advice,  to  take  the  sea-baths 
at  Cette.  She  returned  from  her  trip  bring- 
ing with  her  a  curious  thing,  a  strange  fruit 
on  which  she  based  high  hopes.  When  held 
to  the  ear  and  shaken,  it  rattled,  proving 
that  it  contained  seeds.  It  was  round  and 
prickly.  At  one  end  was  a  sort  of  bud, 
closed  with  a  little  white  flower;  at  the  other, 
a  slight  cavity  was  pierced  with  a  few  holes. 

The  neighbour  ran  round  to  Favier  to 
354 


The  Hairy  Ammophila 

show  him  her  find  and  asked  him  to  mention 
it  to  me.  She  would  make  me  a  present  of 
the  precious  seeds,  the  idea  being  that  some 
wonderful  shrub  would  grow  from  them  and 
beautify  my  garden. 

"Vaqui  la  flou,  vaqui  lou  pecou:  here  is 
the  flower,  here  is  the  tail,"  she  said,  show- 
ing Favier  the  two  ends  of  her  fruit. 

Favier  roared  with  laughter: 

"  It's  a  Sea-urchin,"  he  said,  "  a  Sea- 
chestnut;  I've  eaten  them  at  Constantino- 
ple!" 

And  he  explained  as  best  he  could  what  a 
Sea-urchin  is.  The  woman  did  not  under- 
stand a  word  of  what  he  said  and  persisted 
in  her  contention.  She  was  convinced  that 
Favier  was  deceiving  her,  jealous  at  the 
thought  that  such  precious  seeds  should  reach 
me  through  any  other  intermediary  than  his. 
The  issue  was  submitted  to  me. 

"  Vaqui  la  flou,  vaqui  lou  pecou,"  re- 
peated the  good  woman. 

I  told  her  that  the  flou  was  the  cluster 
formed  by  the  Urchin's  five  white  teeth  and 
that  the  pecou  was  the  antipodes  of  the 
mouth.  She  went  away  only  half-convinced. 
It  may  be  that,  at  this  moment,  the  seeds  of 
the  fruit,  grains  of  sand  rattling  in  the  empty 
355 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

shell,  are  germinating  in  some  old  broken- 
mouthed  pipkin. 

Favier,  therefore,  knows  many  things;  and 
he  knows  them  more  particularly  through 
having  eaten  them.  He  knows  the  virtues 
of  a  Badger's  back,  the  toothsome  qualities 
of  the  leg  of  a  Fox;  he  is  an  expert  as  to  the 
best  part  of  that  Eel  of  the  bushes,  the 
Snake;  he  has  browned  in  oil  the  Eyed  Liz- 
ard, the  ill-famed  Rassade  of  the  South;  he 
has  thought-out  the  recipe  of  a  fry  of  Lo- 
custs. I  am  astounded  at  the  impossible 
stews  which  he  has  concocted  during  his  cos- 
mopolitan career. 

I  am  no  less  surprised  at  his  penetrating 
eye  and  his  memory  for  things.  I  have  only 
to  describe  some  plant,  which  to  him  is  but  a 
nameless  weed,  devoid  of  the  least  interest; 
and,  if  it  grows  in  our  woods,  I  feel  pretty 
sure  that  he  will  bring  it  to  me  and  tell  me 
the  spot  where  I  can  pick  it  for  myself. 
The  botany  of  the  infinitesimal  even  does  not 
foil  his  perspicacity.  To  complete  my  al- 
ready-published work  on  the  Sphaeriaceae  of 
Vaucluse,  I  resume  my  patient  herborizing 
with  the  lens  during  the  bad  weather,  the  in- 
sect's slack  time.  When  the  frost  hardens 
the  ground,  when  the  rains  reduce  it  to  slush, 
356 


The  Hairy  Ammophila 

I  take  Favier  away  from  his  work  in  the 
garden  to  scour  the  woods  with  me;  and 
there,  in  the  tangle  of  some  bramble-bush, 
we  hunt  together  for  those  microscopic 
growths  which  speckle  with  black  dots  the 
tiny  branches  strewn  all  over  the  soil.  He 
calls  the  largest  species  "  gunpowder,"  an 
accurate  expression  which  has  already  been 
used  by  the  botanists  to  describe  one  of  those 
Sphaeriacese.  He  feels  quite  proud  of  his 
bunch  of  discoveries,  which  is  richer  than 
mine.  When  he  lights  upon  a  magnificent 
rosellinia,  a  mass  of  black  pustules  wrapped 
in  a  purplish  down,  we  smoke  a  pipe  to  cele- 
brate the  joyous  occasion. 

He  excels,  above  all  things,  in  ridding  me 
of  the  troublesome  folk  whom  I  meet  upon 
my  rambles.  The  peasant  is  naturally  curi- 
ous, as  fond  of  asking  questions  as  a  child; 
but  his  curiosity  is  flavoured  with  a  spice  of 
malice  and  in  all  his  questions  there  is  an 
undercurrent  of  chaff.  What  he  fails  to  un- 
derstand he  turns  into  ridicule.  And  what 
can  be  more  ludicrous  than  a  gentleman  look- 
ing through  a  glass  at  a  Fly  captured  with  a 
gauze  net,  or  a  bit  of  rotten  wood  picked 
up  from  the  ground?  Favier  cuts  short  the 
bantering  catechism  with  a  word. 
357 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

We  were  hunting  along  the  ground,  step 
by  step,  with  bent  backs,  for  some  of  the  evi- 
dences of  prehistoric  times  that  abound  on 
the  south  side  of  the  mountain:  serpentine- 
stone  axes,  black  potsherds,  flint  arrow-heads 
and  spear-heads,  flakes,  side-scrapers,  cores. 

"  What  does  your  master  do  with  those 
payrards?"  l  asked  a  new  arrival. 

"  He  makes  them  into  putty  for  the  gla- 
ziers," replied  Favier,  with  an  air  of  solemn 
assurance. 

Another  time,  I  had  just  gathered  a  hand- 
ful of  Rabbit-droppings  in  which  the  mag- 
nifying-glass  had  shown  me  a  cryptogamous 
growth  worthy  of  further  inspection.  Up 
comes  an  inquisitive  person  who  has  seen  me 
carefully  packing  the  precious  windfall  in  a 
paper  bag.  He  suspects  a  money-making 
business,  some  crazy  trade  or  other.  Every- 
thing, to  the  countryman,  is  translatable  into 
terms  of  francs  and  sous.  In  his  eyes,  I  am 
making  a  steady  income  out  of  these  Rabbit- 
droppings. 

"  What  does  your  master  do  with  those 
petourlesf  "  3  he  asks  Favier,  in  ingratiating 
tones. 

1Gun-flints. —  Author's  Note. 

2The  local  expression. —  Author's  Note. 

358 


The  Hairy  Ammophila 

"  He  distils  them  to  extract  the  essential 
oils,"  replies  my  man,  with  magnificent  self- 
possession. 

Stunned  by  this  revelation,  the  questioner 
turns  his  back  and  goes  away. 

But  let  us  waste  no  more  time  with  the 
waggish  old  soldier  and  his  smart  repartees 
and  let  us  rather  come  to  what  was  attract- 
ing my  attention  in  the  harmas  laboratory. 
Some  Ammophilae  were  exploring  on  foot, 
with  brief  intervals  of  flight,  both  the  grass 
and  the  bare  patches  of  ground.  I  had  seen 
them  as  early  as  the  middle  of  March,  when 
a  fine  day  made  its  appearance,  warming 
themselves  luxuriously  in  the  dusty  paths. 
All  belonged  to  the  same  species,  the  Hairy 
Ammophila  (A.  hirsuta,  KIRB.).  I  have  al- 
ready written  of  the  hibernation  of  this  Am- 
mophila and  her  venery  in  mid-spring,  at  a 
period  when  the  other  Hunting  Wasps  are 
still  imprisoned  in  their  cocoons;  I  have  de- 
scribed her  manner  of  operating  on  the  cater- 
pillar destined  for  her  grub;  I  have  told  of 
the  repeated  stings  of  her  dart,  distributed 
over  the  different  nerve-centres.  This  scien- 
tific vivisection  I  had  as  yet  observed  but 
once;  and  I  longed  to  see  it  again.  Some- 
thing might  have  escaped  me  on  the  first 
359 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

occasion,  when  a  long  walk  had  tired  me; 
and,  even  if  I  had  really  seen  everything  cor- 
rectly, it  was  advisable  to  witness  the  per- 
formance a  second  time,  so  as  to  establish  its 
authenticity  beyond  all  doubt.  I  may  add 
that  one  would  never  weary  of  the  spectacle, 
even  if  it  were  repeated  a  hundred  times 
over. 

I  therefore  watched  my  Ammophilae  from 
the  moment  of  their  first  appearance;  and,  as 
I  had  them  here,  within  my  precincts,  only  a 
few  steps  from  my  door,  I  could  not  fail  to 
catch  them  hunting,  provided  that  my  assidu- 
ity were  not  relaxed.  The  end  of  March 
and  the  whole  of  April  were  spent  in  vain 
waiting,  either  because  the  moment  of  nidi- 
fication  had  not  yet  come,  or,  more  probably, 
because  my  vigilance  was  at  fault.  At  last, 
on  the  1 7th  of  May,  a  lucky  chance  pre- 
sented itself. 

A  few  Ammophilae  strike  me  as  very  busy : 
suppose  we  follow  one  of  them,  more  active 
than  the  rest.  I  detect  her  giving  a  last 
sweep  of  the  rake  to  her  burrow,  on  the 
smooth,  hard  path,  before  introducing  her 
caterpillar,  which,  already  paralysed,  must 
have  been  abandoned  by  the  huntress,  for  the 
time  being,  a  few  yards  away  from  the  home. 
360 


The  Hairy  Ammophila 

The  cave  is  pronounced  spick  and  span,  the 
doorway  deemed  sufficiently  wide  to  admit  a 
bulky  prey;  and  the  Ammophila  sets  off  in 
search  of  her  captive.  She  finds  it  easily. 
It  is  a  Grey  Worm,  lying  on  the  ground ;  and 
the  Ants  have  already  invaded  it.  This 
prize,  for  which  the  Ants  contend  with  her, 
is  scorned  by  the  huntress.  Many  preda- 
tory Wasps,  who  temporarily  leave  their 
prisoner  to  go  and  complete  the  burrow,  or 
even  to  begin  it,  lodge  their  game  high  up, 
on  a  tuft  of  verdure,  to  place  it  beyond  the 
reach  of  plunderers.  The  Ammophila  is 
familiar  with  this  prudent  practice;  but  per- 
haps she  has  omitted  to  take  the  precaution, 
or  else  the  heavy  prize  has  fallen  to  the 
ground  and  now  the  Ants  are  tugging  in 
eager  rivalry  at  the  sumptuous  fare.  To 
drive  away  those  pilferers  is  impossible:  for 
one  sent  to  the  right  about,  ten  would  return 
to  the  attack.  So  the  Wasp  seems  to  think; 
for,  realizing  the  invasion,  she  resumes  her 
hunting,  without  indulging  in  useless  strife. 
The  quest  takes  place  within  a  radius  of 
ten  yards  from  the  nest.  The  Ammophila 
explores  the  soil  on  foot,  little  by  little,  with- 
out hurrying;  she  lashes  the  ground  continu- 
ally with  her  antennae  curved  like  a  bow. 
36i 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

The  bare  soil,  the  pebbly  bits,  the  grassy 
parts  are  visited  without  distinction.  For 
nearly  three  hours,  in  the  heat  of  the  sun,  in 
sultry  weather  which  means  rain  to-morrow 
and  a  few  drops  to-night,  I  watch  the  Am- 
mophila's  search,  without  taking  my  eyes 
from  her  for  a  second.  What  a  difficult 
thing  a  Grey  Worm  is  to  find,  for  a  Wasp 
who  needs  it  just  at  that  moment ! 

It  is  no  less  difficult  for  man.  The  reader 
knows  my  method  of  witnessing  the  surgical 
operation  to  which  a  Hunting  Wasp  subjects 
her  prey,  with  a  view  to  giving  her  grubs 
flesh  that  is  lifeless  but  not  dead.  I  rob  the 
marauder  of  her  spoil  and,  in  exchange,  give 
her  a  live  prey,  similar  to  her  own.  I  was 
arranging  the  same  manoeuvre  with  regard  to 
the  Ammophila,  so  that,  after  she  had  smit- 
ten her  caterpillar,  which  she  was  bound  to 
find  at  any  moment  now,  I  might  make  her 
perform  the  operation  a  second  time.  I  was 
therefore  in  urgent  need  of  a  few  Grey 
Worms. 

Favier  was  there,  gardening.  I  called  out 
to  him: 

'*  Come  here,  quick;  I  want  some  Grey 
Worms!" 

I  explain  the  thing  to  him;  for  that  mat- 
362 


The  Hairy  Ammophila 

ter,  he  has  known  all  about  it  for  some  time. 
I  have  talked  to  him  of  my  little  creatures 
and  the  caterpillars  which  they  hunt;  he  has 
a  general  knowledge  of  the  habits  of  the  in- 
sect which  I  am  studying.  He  understands 
at  once  and  goes  in  search.  He  digs  at  the 
foot  of  the  lettuces,  he  scrapes  among  the 
strawberry-beds,  he  inspects  the  iris-borders. 
I  know  his  sharp  eyes  and  his  intelligence ;  I 
have  every  confidence  in  him.  Meanwhile, 
time  passes. 

"Well,  Favier?  Where's  that  Grey 
Worm?" 

"  I  can't  find  one,  sir." 

"  Bother !  Then  come  to  the  rescue,  you 
others  I  Claire,  Aglae,  all  of  you !  Hurry 
up,  hunt  and  find !  " 

The  whole  family  is  brought  into  requisi- 
tion. All  its  members  display  an  activity 
worthy  of  the  serious  events  at  hand.  I  my- 
self, chained  to  my  post  lest  I  should  lose 
sight  of  the  Ammophila,  keep  one  eye  upon 
the  huntress  and  with  the  other  watch  for 
Grey  Worms.  Nothing  turns  up:  three 
hours  pass  and  not  one  of  us  has  found  the 
caterpillar. 

The  Ammophila  does  not  find  it  either.  I 
see  her  hunting  with  some  persistency  in 
363 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

spots  where  the  earth  is  slightly  cracked. 
The  insect  wears  itself  out  in  clearing-opera- 
tions; with  a  mighty  effort,  it  removes  lumps 
of  dry  earth  the  size  of  an  apricot-stone. 
Those  spots  are  soon  abandoned,  however. 
Then  a  suspicion  comes  to  me :  the  fact  that 
there  are  four  or  five  of  us  vainly  hunting  for 
a  Grey  Worm  does  not  prove  that  the  Am- 
mophila  is  troubled  with  the  same  want  of 
skill.  Where  man  is  helpless,  the  insect 
often  triumphs.  The  exquisite  delicacy  of 
perception  that  guides  it  cannot  leave  it  at  a 
loss  for  hours  together.  Perhaps  the  Grey 
Worm,  foreseeing  the  gathering  storm,  has 
dug  its  way  lower  down.  The  huntress  very 
well  knows  where  it  lies,  but  cannot  extract 
it  from  its  deep  hiding-place.  When  she 
abandons  a  spot  after  a  few  attempts,  it  is 
not  for  want  of  sagacity,  but  for  want  of  the 
requisite  power  of  digging.  Wherever  the 
Ammophila  scratches,  there  must  a  Grey 
Worm  be:  the  place  is  abandoned  because 
the  work  of  extraction  is  admittedly  beyond 
her  strength.  It  was  very  stupid  of  me  not 
to  have  thought  of  it  earlier.  Would  such 
an  experienced  poacher  pay  any  attention  to 
a  place  where  there  is  really  nothing? 
What  nonsense ! 

364 


The  Hairy  Ammophila 

I  thereupon  resolve  to  come  to  her  assist- 
ance. The  insect,  at  this  moment,  is  dig- 
ging a  tilled  and  absolutely  bare  spot.  It 
leaves  the  place,  as  it  has  already  done  with 
so  many  others.  I  myself  continue  the 
work,  with  the  blade  of  a  knife.  I  do  not 
find  anything  either;  and  I  retire.  The  in- 
sect comes  back  and  again  begins  to  scratch 
at  a  certain  part  of  my  excavations.  I  un- 
derstand: 

"  Get  out  of  that,  you  clumsy  fellow !  " 
the  Hymenopteron  seems  to  say.  "  I'll 
show  you  where  the  thing  lives !  " 

Upon  her  indications,  I  dig  at  the  required 
spot  and  unearth  a  Grey  Worm.  Well 
done,  my  canny  Ammophila !  Did  I  not  say 
that  you  would  never  have  raked  at  an  empty 
burrow? 

Henceforth,  it  is  like  a  hunt  for  truffles, 
which  the  Dog  points  out  and  the  man  ex- 
tracts. I  continue  on  the  same  system,  the 
Ammophila  showing  me  the  place  and  I  dig- 
ging with  the  knife.  I  thus  obtain  a  second 
Grey  Worm,  followed  by  a  third  and  a 
fourth.  The  exhumation  is  always  effected 
at  bare  spots  that  have  been  turned  by  the 
pitchfork  a  few  months  earlier.  There  is 
absolutely  nothing  to  denote  the  presence  of 
365 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

the  caterpillar  from  without.  Well,  Favier, 
Claire,  Aglae  and  the  rest  of  you,  what  have 
you  to  say?  In  three  hours,  you  have  not 
been  able  to  dig  me  up  a  single  Grey  Worm, 
whereas  this  clever  huntress  supplies  me  with 
as  many  as  I  want,  once  that  I  have  thought 
of  coming  to  her  assistance  1 

I  have  now  plenty  of  spare  pieces;  let  us 
leave  the  huntress  her  fifth  prize,  which  she 
unearths  with  my  help.  I  will  set  forth  in 
numbered  paragraphs  the  various  acts  of  the 
gorgeous  drama  that  passes  before  my  eyes. 
The  observation  is  made  under  the  most 
favourable  conditions:  I  am  lying  on  the 
ground,  close  to  the  slaughterer,  and  not  one 
detail  escapes  me. 

i.  The  Ammophila  seizes  the  caterpillar 
by  the  back  of  the  neck  with  the  curved 
pincers  of  her  mandibles.  The  Grey  Worm 
struggles  violently,  rolling  and  unrolling  its 
contorted  body.  The  Wasp  remains  quite 
unconcerned:  she  stands  aside  and  thus 
avoids  the  shocks.  Her  sting  strikes  the 
joint  between  the  first  segment  and  the  head, 
on  the  median  ventral  line,  at  a  spot  where 
the  skin  is  more  delicate.  The  dart  stays  in 
the  wound  with  some  persistency.  This,  it 
appears,  is  the  essential  blow,  which  will  mas- 
366 


The  Hairy  Ammophila 

ter  the  Grey  Worm  and  make  it  more  easy 
to  handle. 

2.  The  Ammophila  now  quits  her  prey. 
She  flattens  herself  on  the  ground,  with  wild, 
disordered  movements,  rolling  on  her  side, 
twitching  and  dangling  her  limbs,  fluttering 
her  wings,  as  though  in  danger  of  death.     I 
fear  lest  the  huntress  may  have  received  a 
nasty  wound  in  the  contest.     I  am  overcome 
with  emotion  at  seeing  the  plucky  Wasp  fin- 
ish so  piteously,  at  seeing  the  experiment  that 
has  cost  me  so  many  hours  of  waiting  end  in 
failure.     But  suddenly  the  Ammophila   re- 
covers, smoothes  her  wings,  curls  her  anten- 
nae and  returns  briskly  to  the  attack.     What 
I  had  taken  for  the  convulsions  of  approach- 
ing death  was  the   frenzied  enthusiasm  of 
victory.     The  Wasp  was  congratulating  her- 
self on  the  manner  in  which  she  had  floored 
the  enemy. 

3.  The  operator  grips  the  caterpillar  by 
the  skin  of  the  back,  a  little  lower  than  be- 
fore, and  pricks  the  second  segment,  still  on 
the  ventral  surface.     I  then  see  her  gradu- 
ally recoiling  along  the  Grey  Worm,  each 
time  seizing  the  back  a  little  lower  down, 
clasping  it  with  the  mandibles,  those  wide 
pincers  with  the  curved  jaws,  and  each  time 

367 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

driving  the  sting  into  the  next  segment. 
This  recoil  of  the  insect  and  this  gradual 
clasping  of  the  back,  a  little  farther  down  on 
each  occasion,  are  effected  with  methodical 
precision,  as  though  the  huntress  were  meas- 
uring her  prey.  At  each  step  backward,  the 
dart  stings  the  following  segment.  In  this 
way  are  wounded  the  three  thoracic  seg- 
ments, with  the  true  legs;  the  next  two  seg- 
ments, which  are  legless;  and  the  four 
segments  with  the  prolegs.  In  all,  nine 
stings.  The  last  four  segments  are  dis- 
regarded: they  consist  of  three  without  legs 
and  the  last,  or  thirteenth,  with  prolegs. 
The  operation  is  accomplished  without  seri- 
ous difficulty:  after  the  first  prick  of  the 
needle,  the  Grey  Worm  offers  but  a  feeble 
resistance. 

4.  Lastly,  the  Ammophila,  opening  the 
forceps  of  her  mandibles  to  their  full  width, 
seizes  the  caterpillar's  head  and  crunches  it, 
squeezes  it  with  a  series  of  leisurely  move- 
ments, without  creating  a  wound.  These 
squeezings  follow  upon  one  another  with  de- 
liberate slowness :  the  insect  seems  to  try  each 
time  to  learn  the  effect  produced;  it  stops, 
waits  and  then  resumes  the  attack.  This 
manipulation  of  the  brain,  to  attain  the  de- 
368 


The  Hairy  Ammophila 

sired  end,  must  have  certain  limits  which,  if 
exceeded,  would  bring  about  death  and 
speedy  putrefaction.  And  so  the  Wasp  regu- 
lates the  force  of  her  compressions,  which, 
moreover,  are  numerous:  about  a  score,  in 
all. 

The  surgeon  has  finished.  The  patient 
lies  on  the  ground  on  its  side,  half  doubled 
up.  It  is  motionless,  lifeless,  incapable  of 
resistance  during  the  traction-process  that  is 
to  bring  it  home,  unable  to  harm  the  grub 
that  is  to  feed  upon  it.  The  Ammophila 
leaves  it  at  the  place  where  the  operation 
was  performed  and  goes  back  to  her  nest  I 
follow  her.  She  makes  certain  improve- 
ments in  view  of  the  coming  storage.  A 
pebble  projecting  from  the  roof  might  im- 
pede the  warehousing  of  the  bulky  quarry. 
The  lump  is  forthwith  removed.  A  rustle 
of  grazed  wings  accompanies  the  arduous 
task.  The  back-room  is  not  large  enough: 
it  is  widened.  The  work  is  long-drawn-out; 
and  the  caterpillar,  which  I  have  neglected  to 
watch,  lest  I  should  miss  any  of  the  Wasp's 
doings,  is  invaded  by  the  Ants.  When  the 
Ammophila  and  I  return  to  it,  it  is  black  all 
over  with  busy  carvers.  This  is  a  regret- 
table incident  for  me  and  a  grievous  event 
369 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

for  the  Ammqphila ;  for  it  is  the  second  time 
that  she  has  met  with  the  same  mishap. 

The  insect  appears  discouraged.  In  vain 
I  replace  the  caterpillar  by  one  of  my  reserve 
of  Grey  Worms:  the  Ammophila  scorns  the 
substituted  prey.  Besides,  evening  is  draw- 
ing in,  the  sky  has  clouded,  there  are  even  a 
few  drops  of  rain  falling.  In  these  circum- 
stances, it  is  needless  to  look  for  a  renewal 
of  the  chase.  Everything,  therefore,  ends, 
without  my  being  able  to  use  my  Grey  Worms 
as  I  had  proposed. 

This  observation  kept  me  engaged,  with- 
out a  moment's  respite,  from  one  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  until  six  o'clock  in  the  evening. 


370 


CHAPTER  XIX 

AN   UNKNOWN   SENSE 

T  HAVE  described  the  Ammophila's  hunt- 
•*•  ing-tactics  in  detail.  The  facts  which  I 
ascertained  seem  to  me  so  rich  in  results  that, 
even  if  the  harmas  laboratory  supplied  me 
with  nothing  more,  I  should  think  myself 
indemnified  by  this  one  observation.  The 
surgical  methods  adopted  by  the  Wasp  with 
the  object  of  paralysing  the  Grey  Worm  are 
the  highest  manifestation  in  the  realm  of 
instinct  that  I  have  hitherto  met.  This  in- 
born science  is  eminently  calculated  to  give  us 
food  for  thought.  What  a  subtle  logician, 
what  an  unerring  operator  is  that  unconscious 
physiologist,  the  Ammophila! 

He  who  would  witness  these  marvels  for 
himself  can  hardly  count  on  what  a  country- 
walk  may  happen  to  show  him;  besides,  if  the 
lucky  opportunity  did  present  itself,  he  would 
not  have  time  to  profit  by  it.  An  observa- 
tion which  I  kept  up  for  five  hours  on  end, 
without  even  then  managing  to  complete  the 
experiment  and  obtain  the  proofs  which  I 
37i 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

anticipated,  is  one  that,  to  be  properly  con- 
ducted, should  be  made  at  leisure  in  one's  own 
garden.  I  owe  my  success,  therefore,  to  my 
rustic  laboratory.  I  make  a  present  of  the 
secret  to  whosoever  would  continue  those 
magnificent  studies:  the  harvest  is  inexhaust- 
ible ;  there  will  be  sheaves  for  all. 

When  we  follow  the  Ammophila's  hunting 
in  the  due  sequence  of  her  actions,  the  first 
question  that  suggests  itself  is  this :  how  does 
the  Wasp  go  to  work  to  recognize  the  spot 
beneath  which  the  Grey  Worm  lies? 

There  is  nothing  outside,  nothing,  at  least, 
perceptible  to  the  eye,  to  indicate  the  cater- 
pillar's hiding-place.  The  soil  that  conceals 
the  quarry  may  be  grassy  or  bare,  flinty  or 
earthy,  smooth  or  seamed  with  little  cracks. 
These  varieties  of  appearance  are  matters 
of  indifference  to  the  huntress,  who  prospects 
every  spot  without  showing  preference  for 
one  more  than  another.  At  no  place  where 
the  Wasp  stops  and  digs  with  some  persist- 
ency do  I  see  anything  particular,  in  spite  of 
all  my  attention;  and  yet  there  must  be  a 
Grey  Worm  there,  as  I  have  but  now  con- 
vinced myself,  five  times  in  succession,  by 
lending  a  helping  hand  to  the  insect,  which 
was  at  first  discouraged  by  a  task  out  of  pro- 
372 


An  Unknown  Sense 

portion  to  its  strength.  Sight,  therefore,  is 
certainly  out  of  the  question  here. 

What  sense  then?  That  of  touch?  Let 
us  enquire.  Everything  tells  us  that  the  or- 
gans of  search  are  the  antennae.  With  their 
tips,  bent  like  a  bow  and  quivering  with  a 
continual  vibration,  the  insect  tests  the 
ground,  giving  a  number  of  little  taps. 
When  some  crack  shows,  the  restless  threads 
enter  and  sound  it;  when  some  grass-tuft 
spreads  its  tangled  root-stock  along  the 
ground,  the  quivering  of  the  antennae  re- 
doubles as  they  grope  among  its  knots  and 
angles.  Their  tips  are  applied  for  an  instant 
to  the  spot  explored,  moulding  themselves,  so 
to  speak,  upon  it.  They  suggest  two  tactile 
filaments,  two  long  fingers  of  incomparable 
mobility,  which  gather  information  by  feel- 
ing. But  the  sense  of  touch  can  play  no  part 
in  revealing  what  is  underground:  the  thing 
to  be  felt  is  the  Grey  Worm;  and  the  worm 
is  lying  snug  in  its  burrow,  at  a  depth  of  some 
inches  below  the  surface. 

We  thereupon  turn  our  thoughts  to  the 
faculty  of  scent.  Insects,  there  is  no  deny- 
ing, possess  the  sense  of  smell,  often  very 
highly  developed.  The  Necrophori,1  the 

1Burying-beetles. —  Translator's  Note. 
373 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

Silphae,1  the  Histers,2  the  Dermestes  3  hasten 
from  every  side  to  the  spot  where  lies  a  little 
corpse  of  which  the  ground  is  to  be  purged. 
Guided  by  scent,  these  grave-diggers  hurry 
towards  the  dead  Mole. 

But,  while  the  presence  of  the  olfactory 
sense  in  insects  is  indisputable,  we  still  ask 
ourselves  where  it  is  seated.  Many  declare 
that  the  seat  is  in  the  antennae.  Let  us  ad- 
mit this,  though  it  is  difficult  to  understand 
how  a  rod  consisting  of  horny  segments, 
jointed  end  to  end,  can  fulfill  the  office  of  a 
nostril  which  is  so  very  differently  con- 
structed. The  organization  of  one  appara- 
tus having  naught  in  common  with  the  other, 
can  the  impressions  received  by  both  be  of 
the  same  nature?  When  tools  are  dissimi- 
lar, do  their  functions  remain  alike? 

Besides,  there  are  grave  objections  in  the 
case  of  our  Wasp.  Smell  is  a  passive  rather 
than  an  active  sense;  it  does  not,  like  touch, 
anticipate  the  impression:  it  receives  it;  it 
does  not  enquire  after  the  scented  effluvium: 
it  accepts  it  when  it  comes.  Now  the  Ammo- 
phila's  antennae  are  always  moving:  they  in- 

1Carrion-beetles. —  Translator's  Note. 
2Mimic-beet1es. —  Translator's  Note. 
8Bacon-beetles. —  Translator's  Note. 

374 


An  Unknown  Sense 

vestigate,  they  anticipate  the  impression. 
The  impression  of  what?  If  it  were  really 
an  impression  of  smell,  repose  would  serve 
them  better  than  a  perpetual  quivering. 

But  there  is  more  to  be  said :  the  olfactory 
sense  goes  for  nothing  when  there  is  no 
smell.  Now  I  have  tested  the  Grey  Worm 
for  myself;  I  have  given  it  to  young  nostrils 
to  sniff,  nostrils  much  more  sensitive  than 
mine :  not  one  of  us  has  perceived  the  faint- 
est trace  of  smell  in  the  caterpillar.  When 
the  Dog,  famed  for  his  scent,  becomes  aware 
of  the  truffle  underground,  he  is  guided  by 
the  tuber's  savour,  which  is  highly  appre- 
ciable by  ourselves,  even  through  the  thick- 
ness of  the  soil.  I  admit  that  the  Dog  has 
a  more  subtle  sense  of  smell  than  we  have: 
it  is  exercised  at  greater  distances,  it  receives 
more  vivid  and  lasting  impressions;  never- 
theless, it  is  impressed  by  odorous  effluvia 
which  becomes  perceptible  to  our  own  nos- 
trils under  the  proper  conditions  of  prox- 
imity. 

I  will  allow  the  Ammophila,  if  you  like,  a 
scent  as  delicate  as  that  of  the  Dog,  more 
delicate  even;  but  still  a  smell  is  needed;  and 
I  ask  myself  how  that  which  is  inodorous  at 
the  very  entrance  to  our  nostrils  can  be  odor- 
375 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

iferous  to  an  insect  through  the  intervening 
obstacle  of  the  ground.  The  senses,  if  they 
have  the  same  functions,  have  the  same  ex- 
citants, from  man  to  the  Infusoria.  No  ani- 
mal, so  far  as  I  know,  can  see  clearly  in  what 
to  us  is  absolute  darkness.  True,  it  may  be 
said  that,  in  the  zoological  progression,  per- 
ception, always  fundamentally  the  same,  has 
varying  degrees  of  power:  this  species  is 
capable  of  more  and  that  species  of  less; 
what  is  perceptible  to  one  is  imperceptible  to 
another.  This  is  perfectly  right;  and  yet  the 
insect,  generally  considered,  does  not  appear 
to  possess  exceptional  keenness  of  scent:  the 
effluvia  that  attract  it  are  perceived  without 
a  sense  of  smell  of  unusual  delicacy.  When 
Dermestes,  Silphae  and  Histers  pour  into  the 
chalice  of  a  carrion-scented  arum  lily,  never 
to  come  out  again;  when  swarms  of  Flies 
buzz  around  a  dead  Dog's  blue  and  swollen 
belly,  the  whole  neighbourhood  reeks  with 
the  stench.  It  hardly  requires  a  scent  of  ex- 
quisite accuracy  on  the  insect's  part  to  dis- 
cover putrid  meat  and  rotten  cheese.  Wher- 
ever we  see  its  hordes  gather,  with  scent  for 
their  undoubted  guide,  we  ourselves  are  cog- 
nizant of  a  smell. 

There  remains  hearing.     This  is  another 
376 


An  Unknown  Sense 

sense  about  which  entomologists  are  not  ade- 
quately informed.  Where  is  its  seat?  In 
the  antennae,  we  are  told.  Those  fine,  quiv- 
ering stalks  would  seem  fairly  well-suited  to 
be  put  in  motion  under  the  impulse  of  sound. 
In  that  case,  the  Ammophila,  exploring  the 
region  with  her  antennae,  would  be  warned  of 
the  presence  of  the  Grey  Worm  by  a  slight 
noise  coming  up  from  the  ground,  the  noise 
of  the  mandibles  nibbling  a  root,  the  noise  of 
the  caterpillar  wriggling  its  hind-quarters. 
What  a  faint  sound  and  how  difficult  to  trans- 
mit through  the  spongy  cushion  of  the  earth ! 

It  is  less  than  faint,  it  is  non-existent. 
The  Grey  Worm  is  nocturnal  in  its  habits. 
By  day  it  skulks  in  its  lair  and  does  not  stir. 
It  does  not  nibble  either;  at  least,  the  Grey 
Worms  which  I  unearthed  upon  the  Wasp's 
indications  were  nibbling  nothing,  for  the 
very  simple  reason  that  they  had  nothing  to 
nibble.  They  were  completely  motionless 
and  therefore  silent  in  a  layer  of  earth  de- 
void of  roots.  The  sense  of  hearing  must 
be  rejected  with  that  of  smell. 

The  question  recurs,  more  abstruse  than 

ever.     How  does  the  Ammophila  go  to  work 

to  recognize  the  spot  beneath  which  the  Grey 

Worm  lies?     The   antennae   are,   beyond  a 

377 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

doubt,  the  organs  that  guide  her.  They  do 
not,  in  this  case,  act  as  olfactory  instruments, 
unless  we  admit  that  their  dry  and  tough  sur- 
face, which  has  none  of  the  delicate  structure 
required  for  the  ordinary  sense  of  smell,  is 
nevertheless  capable  of  perceiving  scents  that 
are  non-existent  to  us.  This  would  be  equi- 
valent to  admitting  that  coarse  tools  tend  to 
perfection  of  work.  Nor  do  they  act  as  in- 
struments of  hearing,  for  there  is  no  sound 
to  be  discerned.  What  then  is  their  func- 
tion? I  do  not  know  and  I  despair  of  ever 
knowing. 

Inclined  as  we  are  —  and  it  could  not  well 
be  otherwise  —  to  judge  all  things  by  our 
standard,  the  only  one  in  any  way  known  to 
us,  we  attribute  to  animals  our  own  means  of 
perception  and  do  not  dream  that  they  might 
easily  possess  others  of  which  it  is  impossible 
for  us  to  have  an  exact  idea  because  there  is 
nothing  like  them  in  ourselves.  Are  we 
quite  certain  that  they  are  not  equipped,  in 
very  varying  degrees,  for  the  purpose  of  sen- 
sations as  foreign  to  ourselves  as  the  sensa- 
tion of  colours  would  be  if  we  were  blind? 
Has  matter  no  secrets  left  for  us?  Are  we 
so  very  sure  that  it  is  revealed  to  the  living 
being  only  by  light,  sound,  taste,  smell  and 
378 


An  Unknown  Sense 

touch?  Physics  and  chemistry,  young 
though  they  be,  already  declare  to  us  that 
the  dark  unknown  contains  an  enormous 
harvest,  in  comparison  with  which  our 
scientific  sheaf  is  the  'merest  penury. 
A  new  sense,  perhaps  that  which  dwells 
in  the  grotesquely  exaggerated  nose  of 
the  Rhinolophus,1  perhaps  that  which  dwells 
in  the  antennae  of  the  Ammophila,  would 
open  to  our  search  a  world  which  our 
physical  structure  no  doubt  condemns  us  to 
leave  for  ever  unexplored.  Cannot  certain 
properties  of  matter,  which  have  no  percept- 
ible action  upon  us,  find  a  receptive  echo  in 
animals,  which  are  differently  equipped? 

When  Spallanzani,2  after  blinding  some 
Bats,  released  them  in  a  room  converted  into 
a  maze  by  means  of  cords  stretched  in  every 
direction  and  of  heaped-up  brambles,  how 
were  those  animals  able  to  find  their  way 
about,  to  fly  quickly,  to  move  to  and  fro,  from 
end  to  end  of  the  room,  without  hitting  the 
interposed  articles?  What  sense  analogous 
to  any  of  ours  guided  them?  Would  some 
one  tell  me  and,  above  all,  make  me  under- 

JThe  Horseshoe  Bat. — Translator's  Note. 
2Lazaro    Spallanzani     (1729-1799),   the    great    Italian 
naturalist. —  Translator's  Note. 
379 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

stand?  I  should  also  like  to  understand  how 
the  Ammophila  infallibly  finds  her  caterpil- 
lar's burrow  with  the  aid  of  her  antennae.  It 
is  not  a  case  of  the  sense  of  smell:  we  should 
have  to  presume  it  to  possess  an  unparalleled 
delicacy,  while  recognizing  that  it  is  exer- 
cised by  an  organ  in  which  no  provision 
seems  made  for  the  perception  of  smells. 

What  a  number  of  other  incomprehensible 
things  do  we  not  ascribe  to  the  insect's  sense 
of  smell!  We  are  satisfied  with  a  word:  the 
explanation  is  ready-found,  without  laborious 
search.  But,  if  we  care  to  consider  the  mat- 
ter thoroughly,  if  we  compare  the  requisite 
array  of  facts,  then  the  cliff  of  the  unknown 
rises  abruptly,  not  to  be  climbed  by  the  path 
which  we  insist  on  following.  Let  us  then 
change  our  path  and  admit  that  animals  may 
have  other  means  of  information  than  our 
own.  Our  senses  do  not  represent  the  sum 
total  of  the  methods  whereby  an  animal  com- 
municates with  t(iat  which  is  not  itself:  there 
are  others  not  capable  of  comparison,  how- 
ever remote,  with  those  which  we  possess. 

If  the  act  of  the  Ammophila  were  an  iso- 
lated fact,  I  should  not  have  lingered  over 
it  as  I  have  done ;  but  I  propose  to  speak  of 
others  stranger  still,  which  will  carry  convic- 
380 


An  Unknown  Sense 

tion  to  the  most  exacting  mind.  After  re- 
lating them,  therefore,  I  shall  return  to  the 
subject  of  special  senses,  irreducible  senses, 
unknown  to  us. 

For  the  moment,  let  us  go  back  to  the 
Grey  Worm,  which  it  would  be  as  well  for 
us  to  know  in  a  less  casual  fashion.  I  have 
four  of  them,  dug  up  with  the  knife  at  the 
spots  indicated  by  the  Ammophila.  My  in- 
tention was  to  substitute  them,  by  turns,  for 
the  doomed  victim,  so  as  to  see  the  Wasp's 
operation  repeated.  When  my  plan  failed, 
I  placed  the  worms  in  a  glass  jar,  with  a 
layer  of  earth  and  a  lettuce-stalk  above  them. 
By  day,  my  captives  remained  buried  in  the 
earth;  at  night,  they  came  up  to  the  surface, 
where  I  caught  them  gnawing  at  the  salad 
from  below.  In  August,  they  dug  deep 
down,  not  to  come  up  again,  and  fashioned 
themselves  a  cocoon  apiece  of  earth,  very 
rough  on  the  outer  surface,  oval  in  shape 
and  the  size  of  a  small  pigeon's  egg.  The 
moth  appeared  at  the  end  of  the  same  month. 
I  recognized  the  Dart  or  Turnip  Moth 
(Noctua  segetum,  HUBN.). 

The  Hairy  Ammophila,  therefore,  feeds 
her  grubs  on  the  caterpillars  of  Noctuae;  and 
her  choice  falls  exclusively  on  the  species  that 
381 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

live  underground.  These  caterpillars,  com- 
monly known  as  Grey  Worms,  because  of 
their  drab  garb,  are  a  most  formidable 
scourge  to  agricultural  crops,  as  well  as  to 
garden  produce.  Curled  in  their  burrows 
by  day,  they  climb  to  the  surface  at  night  and 
gnaw  the  base  or  collar  of  the  herbaceous 
plants.  Everything  suits  them:  ornamental 
plants  and  edible  plants  alike.  Flower-beds, 
market-gardens,  fields  are  laid  waste  without 
distinction.  When  a  seedling  withers  with- 
out apparent  cause,  draw  it  to  you  gently ;  and 
the  dying  plant  will  come  up,  but  maimed, 
severed  from  its  root.  The  Grey  Worm 
has  passed  that  way  in  the  night;  its  greedy 
mandibles  have  performed  the  deadly  ampu- 
tation. Its  havoc  rivals  that  wrought  by  the 
White  Worm,  the  grub  of  the  Cockchafer. 
When  it  swarms  in  a  beet-country,  the  dam- 
age amounts  to  millions.  This  is  the  terri- 
ble enemy  against  which  the  Ammophila 
comes  to  our  aid. 

I  point  out  and  urgently  recommend  to 
to  agriculturalists  this  valuable  auxiliary,  so 
zealous  in  her  search  of  the  Grey  Worm  in 
spring,  so  skilful  in  discovering  its  hiding- 
place.  An  Ammophila  in  a  garden  may 
mean  the  saving  of  a  lettuce-bed,  the  snatch- 
382 


An  Unknown  Sense 

ing  of  a  balsam-border  from  danger.  But 
there  is  need  here  for  recommendations. 
None  would  dream  of  destroying  the  pretty 
Wasp  who  goes  fluttering  nimbly  from  one 
path  to  the  other,  who  visits  this  corner  of 
the  garden,  then  that,  then  the  next,  then  the 
one  over  there ;  none  dreams  either  —  and 
none,  unfortunately,  can  dream  —  of  assist- 
ing her  to  multiply. 

In  the  immense  majority  of  cases,  the  in- 
sect evades  our  influence:  to  exterminate  it, 
if  it  be  harmful,  to  propagate  it,  if  it  be  use- 
ful, are  impracticable  undertakings  for  us. 
By  a  singular  contrast  of  strength  and  weak- 
ness, man  cuts  through  the  neck  of  continents 
to  join  two  seas,  he  pierces  the  Alps,  he 
weighs  the  sun;  and  yet  he  cannot  prevent  a 
wretched  maggot  from  enjoying  his  cherries 
before  he  himself  does,  nor  an  odious  Louse 
from  destroying  his  vines!  The  Titan  is 
vanquished  by  the  pigmy. 

Now  we  have  here,  in  this  insect-world,  an 
auxiliary  of  high  merit,  the  supreme  foe  of 
our  grievous  foe  the  Grey  Worm.  Can  we 
do  anything  to  stock  our  fields  and  gardens 
with  it  at  will?  We  cannot;  for  the  first 
condition  of  multiplying  the  Ammophila 
would  be  to  multiply  the  Grey  Worm,  the 
383 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

only  food  of  her  family  of  grubs.  I  do  not 
speak  of  the  unsurmountable  difficulties 
which  this  breeding  would  present.  We 
have  not  to  do  with  the  Bee,  who  is  faithful 
to  her  hive,  because  of  her  social  habits;  still 
less  with  the  stupid  Silkworm,  perched  on  its 
mulberry-leaf,  or  its  clumsy  Moth,  who  for 
a  moment  flutters  her  wings,  pairs,  lays  her 
eggs  and  dies:  we  have  to  do  with  an  insect 
that  is  capricious  in  its  wanderings,  swift  of 
flight  and  independent  in  its  ways. 

Besides,  the  first  condition  shatters  all  our 
hopes.  Would  we  have  the  helpful  Ammo- 
phila?  Then  we  must  resign  ourselves  to 
accepting  the  Grey  Worm.  We  move  in  a 
vicious  circle:  to  produce  good  we  must  in- 
voke the  aid  of  evil.  The  hostile  band 
brings  the  friendly  troop  to  our  fields;  but 
the  second  cannot  live  without  the  first;  and 
the  two  show  an  even  balance  in  numbers. 
If  the  Grey  Worm  abound,  the  Ammophila 
finds  copious  provender  for  her  grubs  and 
her  race  prospers;  if  the  Grey  Worm  be  rare, 
the  Ammophila's  offspring  decrease  and  dis- 
appear. This  balance  between  prosperity 
and  decadence  is  the  immutable  law  that  gov- 
erns the  proportions  between  devourers  and 
devoured. 

384 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE   MODERN   THEORY   OF   INSTINCT 

THE  larvae  of  the  various  Hunting 
Wasps  require  their  prey  to  be  inca- 
pable of  movement,  so  that  there  may  be  no 
resistance  on  the  victim's  part,  which  would 
be  a  source  of  danger  to  the  fragile  egg  and, 
later,  to  the  grub.  Moreover,  for  all  its 
lethargy,  it  must  still  be  alive;  for  the  grub 
would  refuse  to  feed  on  a  corpse.  The  fare 
provided  must  be  fresh  meat  and  not  pre- 
served stuff.  I  have  already  laid  stress  on 
these  two  antagonistic  conditions,  immobil- 
ity and  life,  and  enlarged  on  them  so  fully 
that  I  need  hardly  dwell  upon  them  for  a 
second  time.  I  have  shown  how  the  Wasp 
realizes  them  by  the  medium  of  a  paralysis 
which  destroys  movement  and  leaves  the  or- 
ganic principle  of  life  intact.  With  a  skill 
which  our  most  famous  vivisectors  would 
envy,  the  insect  drives  its  poisoned  sting  into 
the  nerve-centres,  the  seat  of  muscular  inci- 
tation.  The  operator  confines  herself  to  one 
stroke  of  the  lancet,  or  else  gives  two,  three 
385 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

or  more,  according  to  the  structure  of  the  par- 
ticular nervous  system  and  to  the  number  and 
grouping  of  the  ganglia.  The  course  of  the 
sting  is  determined  by  the  exact  anatomy  of 
the  victim. 

The  particular  prey  of  the  Hairy  Ammo- 
phila  is  a  caterpillar,  each  of  whose  nerve- 
centres,  which  are  distant  one  from  the  other 
and  to  a  certain  extent  independent  in  their 
action,  occupies  a  different  segment  of  the 
insect.  This  caterpillar,  who  is  a  very  lively 
customer,  cannot  be  stored  in  the  cell,  with 
the  Wasp's  egg  upon  his  flank,  until  he  has 
lost  all  his  power  of  motion.  One  move- 
ment of  his  body  would  crush  that  egg 
against  the  wall  of  the  cell. 

Now  the  paralysis  of  one  segment  would 
not  mean  that  the  next  was  also  rendered  in- 
capable of  movement,  because  of  the  com- 
parative independence  of  the  seats  of  innerva- 
tion.  It  is  necessary,  therefore,  that  all  the 
segments,  or  at  least  the  most  important,  be 
operated  on,  one  after  the  other,  from  the 
first  to  the  last.  The  course  which  the  Am- 
mophila  adopts  is  that  which  the  most  ex- 
perienced of  physiologists  would  recom- 
mend: her  sting  is  transferred  from  one  seg- 
ment to  the  next,  nine  separate  times  over. 
3*6 


The  Modern  Theory  of  Instinct 

She  does  better  than  that.  The  victim's 
head  is  still  unscathed,  the  mandibles  are  at 
work:  they  might  easily,  as  the  insect  is 
borne  along,  grip  some  bit  of  straw  in  the 
ground  and  successfully  resist  this  forcible 
removal;  the  brain,  the  primary  nervous 
centre,  might  provoke  a  stubborn  contest, 
which  would  be  very  awkward  with  so  heavy 
a  burden.  It  is  well  that  these  hitches  should 
be  avoided.  The  caterpillar,  therefore, 
must  be  reduced  to  a  state  of  torpor  which 
will  deprive  him  of  the  least  inclination  for 
self-defence.  The  Ammophila  succeeds  in 
effecting  this  by  munching  his  head.  She 
takes  good  care  not  to  use  her  needle:  she 
is  no  clumsy  bungler  and  knows  quite  well 
that  to  inflict  a  mortal  wound  on  the  cervical 
ganglia  would  mean  killing  the  caterpillar 
then  and  there,  the  very  thing  to  be  avoided. 
She  merely  squeezes  the  brain  between  her 
mandibles,  calculating  every  pinch ;  and,  each 
time,  she  stops  to  ascertain  the  effect  pro- 
duced, for  there  is  a  nice  point  to  be  achieved, 
a  certain  degree  of  torpor  that  must  not  be 
exceeded,  lest  death  should  supervene.  In 
this  way,  the  requisite  lethargy  is  obtained, 
a  somnolence  in  which  all  volition  is  lost. 
And  now  the  caterpillar,  incapable  of  resist- 
387 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

ance,  incapable  of  wishing  to  resist,  is  seized 
by  the  nape  of  the  neck  and  dragged  to  the 
nest.  Comment  would  mar  the  eloquence  of 
such  facts  as  these. 

The  Hairy  Ammophila  has  twice  allowed 
me  to  attend  her  surgical  operations.  I  have 
described  in  an  earlier  chapter  of  this  vol- 
ume my  first  observation,  which  dates  many 
years  back.  On  that  occasion.  I  witnessed 
the  performance  quite  unexpectedly;  to-day, 
I  have  made  all  my  preparations  and  have 
plenty  of  time  at  my  disposal,  so  that  I  am 
able  to  make  a  much  more  thorough  observa- 
tion. In  each  case  there  was  a  multiplicity 
of  needle-pricks,  which  were  distributed 
methodically,  from  front  to  back,  along  the 
ventral  surface.  Is  the  number  of  stings  in- 
deed identical  in  both  cases?  This  time,  it 
is  exactly  nine.  In  the  case  of  the  victim 
which  I  saw  paralysed  on  the  Plateau  des 
Angles,  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  weapon  in- 
flicted more  wounds,  though  I  am  not  able 
to  state  the  precise  number.  It  is  quite  pos- 
sible that  this  number  varies  slightly  and  that 
the  last  segments  of  the  caterpillar,  being 
much  less  important  than  the  others,  are  at- 
tacked or  left  alone  according  to  the  size  and 
strength  of  the  quarry  to  be  incapacitated. 
388 


The  Modern  Theory  of  Instinct 

On  the  second  occasion,  moreover,  I  had 
my  first  view  of  the  squeezing  process  to 
which  the  caterpillar's  brain  is  subjected,  a 
process  that  produces  the  torpor  which  makes 
the  transport  and  storage  of  the  victim  pos- 
sible. So  remarkable  a  fact  would  not  have 
escaped  me  in  the  first  instance;  it  did  not, 
therefore,  take  place.  It  follows  that  this 
cerebral  compression  is  a  resource  which  the 
Wasp  has  at  her  disposal,  for  use  when  cir- 
cumstances demand  it,  as  for  instance  when 
the  victim  seems  likely  to  offer  resistance  on 
the  road. 

The  malaxation  of  the  cervical  ganglia  is 
optional:  it  has  no  bearing  on  the  future  of 
the  larva;  the  Wasp  practises  it,  when  need- 
ful, to  facilitate  transport.  I  have  seen  the 
Languedocian  Sphex,  who  gave  me  so  much 
trouble  in  the  old  days,  at  work  fairly  often, 
but  only  once  has  she  performed  this  opera- 
tion on  the  neck  of  her  Ephippiger  in  my 
presence.  The  invariable  and  absolutely 
necessary  part  of  the  Hairy  Ammophila's 
procedure  seems  therefore  to  be  the  multi- 
plicity of  stings  and  their  distribution  one  by 
one  over  all  or  nearly  all  the  nerve-centres 
along  the  median  line  of  the  lower  surface. 

Let  us  place  side  by  side  with  the  murder- 
389 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

ous  art  of  the  Wasp  the  murderous  art  of 
man,  practical  man,  whose  business  it  is  to 
slay  rapidly.  I  will  here  recall  one  of  my 
childhood's  memories.  We  were  school- 
boys of  twelve  years  old,  or  thereabouts. 
We  were  being  instructed  in  the  woes  of 
Meliboeus,  pouring  out  his  sorrows  on  the 
bosom  of  Tityrus,  who  offers  him  his  chest- 
nuts, his  sour  milk  and  his  bed  of  fresh 
bracken; 1  we  were  made  to  recite  a  poem  by 
Racine  the  Younger,2  La  Religion.  A  curi- 
ous poem,  forsooth,  for  children  who  cared 
more  for  marbles  than  theology !  I  remem- 
ber just  two  lines  and  a  half: 

et,  jusque  dans  la  fange, 

L'insecte  nous  appelle  etf  certain  de  son 

prix, 
Ose  nous  demander  ralson  de  nos  mepris.3 

Why  do  these  two  lines  and  a  half  linger 
in  my  memory  and  none  of  all  the  rest? 

a"This  night,  at  least,  with  me  forget  your  care; 
Chestnuts  and  curds  and  cream  shall  be  your  fare; 
The  carpet-ground  shall  be  with   leaves  o'erspread 
And  boughs  shall  weave  a  covering  for  your  head." — 

Pastorals,  book  i,  Dryden's  translation. 
2Louis    Racine     (1692-1763),    son    of    Jean    Racine. — • 
Translator's  Note. 

and    even    in    the    mire, 

The  insect,  of  its  worth  assured,  once  and  again 
Ventures  to  challenge  us  to  make  good  our  disdain. 
390 


The  Modern  Theory  of  Instinct 

Because  already  Scarabteus  and  I  were 
friends.  Those  two  lines  and  a  half  both- 
ered me:  I  thought  it  a  very  absurd  idea 
to  relegate  you  to  the  mire,  ye  insects  so 
seemly  clad,  so  elegantly  groomed.  I  knew 
the  bronze  harness  of  the  Carabus,  the  Rus- 
sia-leather jerkin  of  the  Stag-beetle;  I  knew 
that  the  least  of  you  possesses  an  ebon  sheen 
and  gleams  of  precious  metals;  and  therefore 
the  mire  wherein  the  poet  flung  you  shocked 
me  somewhat.  If  M.  Racine  Junior  had 
nothing  better  to  say  about  you,  he  might  as 
well  have  held  his  tongue;  but  he  did  not 
know  you  and,  in  his  day,  there  were  only 
just  a  few  who  were  beginning  to  have  a  dim 
conception  of  your  nature. 

While  going  over  some  passage  of  the 
tiresome  poem  for  the  next  day's  lesson,  I 
would  indulge  my  fancy  for  another  kind  of 
education.  I  visited  the  Linnet  in  her  nest, 
on  a  juniper-bush  standing  as  high  as  myself; 
I  watched  the  Jay  picking  an  acorn  on  the 
ground;  I  came  upon  the  Crayfish,  still  quite 
soft  after  shedding  his  shell;  I  made  enquir- 
ies as  to  the  exact  date  when  the  Cockchafers 
were  due;  I  went  in  quest  of  the  first  full- 
blown Cuckoo-flower.  Plants  and  animals, 
that  wondrous  poem  of  which  a  faint  echo 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

was  beginning  to  wake  in  my  young  brain, 
made  a  very  pleasant  change  from  the  unin- 
spiring alexandrine.  The  problem  of  life 
and  that  other  one,  with  its  dark  terrors,  the 
problem  of  death,  at  times  passed  through 
my  mind.  It  was  a  fleeting  obsession,  soon 
forgotten  by  the  mercurial  spirits  of  youth. 
Nevertheless,  the  tremendous  question  would 
recur,  brought  to  mind  by  this  incident  or 
that. 

Passing  one  day  by  a  slaughter-house,  I 
saw  an  Ox  driven  in  by  the  butcher.  I  have 
always  had  an  insurmountable  horror  of 
blood;  when  I  was  a  boy,  the  sight  of  an  open 
wound  affected  me  so  much  that  I  would  fall 
into  a  swoon,  which  on  more  than  one  occa- 
sion nearly  cost  me  my  life.  How  did  I 
screw  up  courage  to  set  foot  in  those  sham- 
bles? No  doubt,  the  dread  problem  of 
death  urged  me  on.  At  any  rate,  I  entered, 
close  on  the  heels  of  the  Ox. 

With  a  stout  rope  round  its  horns,  wet- 
muzzled,  meek-eyed,  the  animal  moves  along 
as  though  making  for  the  crib  in  its  stable. 
The  man  walks  ahead,  holding  the  rope. 
We  enter  the  hall  of  death,  amid  the  sicken- 
ing stench  thrown  up  by  the  entrails  scattered 
392 


The  Modern  Theory  of  Instinct 

over  the  ground  and  the  pools  of  blood. 
The  Ox  becomes  aware  that  this  is  not  his  sta- 
ble; his  eyes  turn  red  with  terror;  he  strug- 
gles; he  tries  to  escape.  But  an  iron  ring  is 
there,  in  the  floor,  firmly  fixed  to  a  stone  flag. 
The  man  passes  the  rope  through  it  and 
hauls.  The  Ox  lowers  his  head;  his  muzzle 
touches  the  ground.  While  an  assistant 
keeps  him  in  this  position  with  the  rope,  the 
butcher  takes  a  knife  with  a  pointed  blade, 
not  at  all  a  formidable  knife,  hardly  larger 
than  the  one  which  I  myself  carry  in  my 
breeches-pocket.  For  a  moment,  he  feels 
with  his  fingers  at  the  back  of  the  animal's 
neck  and  then  drives  in  the  blade  at  the 
chosen  spot.  The  great  beast  gives  a  shiver 
and  drops,  as  though  struck  by  lightning: 
procumbit  humi  bos,  as  we  used  to  say  in 
those  days. 

I  fled  from  the  place  like  one  possessed. 
Afterwards,  I  wondered  how  it  was  possible, 
with  a  knife  almost  identical  with  that  which 
I  used  for  prizing  open  my  walnuts  and  ta- 
king the  skin  off  my  chestnuts,  with  that  in- 
significant blade,  to  kill  an  Ox  and  kill  him 
so  suddenly.  No  gaping  wound,  no  blood 
spilt,  not  a  bellow  from  the  animal.  The 
393 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

man  feels  with  his  finger,  gives  a  jab  and 
the  thing  is  done:  the  Bullock's  legs  double 
up  under  him. 

This  instantaneous  death,  this  lightning- 
stroke  remained  an  awesome  mystery  to  me. 
It  was  only  later,  very  much  later,  that  I 
learnt  the  secret  of  the  slaughter-house,  at 
a  time  when,  in  the  course  of  my  promiscuous 
reading,  I  was  picking  up  a  smattering  of 
anatomy.  The  man  had  cut  through  the 
spinal  marrow  where  it  leaves  the  skull;  he 
had  severed  what  our  physiologists  have 
called  the  vital  cord.  To-day  I  might  say 
that  he  had  operated  in  the  manner  of  the 
Wasps,  whose  lancet  plunges  into  the  nerve- 
centres. 

Let  us  watch  this  spectacle  a  second  time, 
under  more  exciting  conditions:  I  mean,  in 
the  saladeiros  of  South  America,  those  im- 
mense establishments  for  killing  and  treat- 
ing meat,  where  they  slaughter  as  many  as 
twelve  hundred  Oxen  a  day.  I  will  quote 
the  account  of  an  eye-witness : J 

"  The  cattle  arrive  in  large  herds  and  the 
matance  begins  on  the  day  after  the  arrival. 

1L.  GOUTY,  in  the  Revue  scientifique,  6  August,  1881. — 
Author's  Note. 

394 


The  Modern  Theory  of  Instinct 

A  whole  herd  is  confined  in  an  enclosed 
space,  or  margueira.  From  time  to  time, 
men  on  horseback  drive  fifty  or  sixty  beasts 
into  a  narrower  and  stronger  enclosure,  with 
a  sloping  floor  of  brick,  boards  or  concrete, 
which  is  always  very  slippery.  A  special 
operator,  standing  on  an  outer  platform 
which  runs  along  the  wall  of  the  smaller 
margueira,  lassoes  one  of  the  crowd  of  ani- 
mals by  the  head  or,  more  often,  by  the 
horns.  The  middle  portion  of  the  long, 
stout  lasso  is  coiled  round  a  windlass;  and  a 
draught-horse,  or  sometimes  a  pair  of  oxen, 
drags  the  lassoed  beast  along  and  makes  it 
slide,  in  spite  of  its  struggles,  right  against 
the  windlass,  where  it  is  brought  up  with  a 
thud  and  remains  without  power  of  move- 
ment. 

"  Another  assistant,  the  desnucador,  also 
standing  on  the  platform,  has  then  but  to 
stick  a  knife,  at  the  back  of  the  head,  be- 
tween the  occipital  bone  and  the  axis;  and 
the  paralysed  animal  topples  on  to  a  trolley 
in  which  it  is  carted  off.  It  is  at  once  thrown 
on  an  inclined  plane  where  other  special  la- 
bourers bleed  it  and  skin  it.  But,  as  the 
injury  to  the  cervical  marrow  varies  a  good 
deal  in  position  and  extent,  it  often  happens 
395 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

that  the  unfortunate  beasts  still  retain  the 
motions  of  the  heart  and  of  the  respiratory 
organs;  and,  in  such  cases,  they  suffer  a 
reaction  under  the  knife;  they  utter  faint 
sounds  of  pain  and  move  their  limbs, 
while  already  half-flayed  and  disembowelled. 
Nothing  could  be  more  painful  than  the  sight 
of  all  those  animals  skinned  alive,  cut  up  and 
transformed  by  those  men,  covered  with 
blood,  who  run  about  in  all  directions." 

The  murderous  methods  of  the  saladeiro 
are  an  exact  repetition  of  what  I  had  seen 
in  the  slaughter-house.  In  both  these  lethal 
workshops,  they  pierce  the  vertebral  mar- 
row, at  the  base  of  the  skull.  The  Ammo- 
phila  operates  in  a  similar  fashion,  with  this 
difference,  that  her  surgery  is  much  more 
complex,  much  more  difficult,  because  of  the 
peculiar  organization  of  her  victim.  The 
honours  are  on  her  side  again  when  we  con- 
sider the  delicacy  of  the  result  obtained. 
Her  caterpillar  is  not  a  corpse,  like  the  Ox 
whose  spinal  cord  is  cut;  it  is  alive,  but  in- 
capable of  movement.  The  insect  here  is 
man's  superior  in  all  respects. 

Now  how  did  the  butcher  of  our  parts  and 
the  desnucador  of  the  pampas  light  upon  the 
396 


The  Modern  Theory  of  Instinct 

idea  of  plunging  a  knife  into  the  seat  of  the 
marrow,  in  order  to  produce  the  sudden 
death  of  a  colossus  which  would  never  suffer 
its  throat  to  be  cut  without  first  offering  a 
dangerous  resistance?  Outside  those  in  the 
trade  and  men  of  science,  nobody  knows  or 
suspects  the  lightning  result  of  that  particu- 
lar wound;  we  are  almost  all  in  the  same 
state  of  ignorance  on  this  subject  in  which  I 
myself  was  when  my  childish  curiosity  drew 
me  into  the  killing-shed.  The  desnucador 
and  the  butcher  have  learnt  their  craft  from 
the  teachings  of  tradition  and  example :  they 
have  had  masters;  and  these  were  brought  up 
in  the  school  of  other  masters,  harking  back 
by  a  chain  of  linked  traditions  to  him  who, 
served,  no  doubt,  by  some  hazard  of  the 
chase,  first  realized  the  tremendous  effects  of 
a  wound  in  the  nape  of  the  neck.  Who  shall 
tell  us  that  a  pointed  flint-stone,  driven  by  ac- 
cident into  the  spinal  marrow  of  the  Reindeer 
or  the  Mammoth,  did  not  rouse  the  attention 
of  the  desnucador1 's  forerunner?  A  casual 
incident  furnished  the  original  idea;  observa- 
tion confirmed  it;  reflection  matured  it; 
tradition  preserved  it;  example  disseminated 
it.  After  that,  the  same  transmission-cur- 
rent. For  generation  might  follow  genera- 
397 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

tion  in  vain:  deprived  of  masters,  the  des- 
nucador's  descendants  would  return  to  the 
primitive  state  of  ignorance.  Heredity 
does  not  hand  down  the  art  of  killing  by 
severing  the  spinal  marrow:  no  man  is  born 
a  cattle-slayer  by  the  desnucador's  method. 
Now  here  is  the  Arrimophila,  a  slayer  of 
Caterpillars  by  a  far  more  cunning  method. 
Where  are  the  professors  of  the  art  of  sting- 
ing? There  are  not  any.  When  the  Wasp 
rends  her  cocoon  and  issues  from  under- 
ground, her  predecessors  have  long  ceased  to 
live;  she  herself  will  perish  without  seeing 
her  successors.  Once  the  larder  is  stocked 
and  the  egg  laid,  all  connection  with  the  off- 
spring ends;  this  year's  perfect  insect  dies 
while  next  year's  insect,  still  in  the  larval 
stage,  slumbers  below  ground  in  its  silken 
cot.  Absolutely  nothing,  therefore,  is  trans- 
mitted by  practical  illustration.  The  Am- 
mophila  is  born  a  finished  desnucador  even 
as  we  are  born  feeders  at  our  mother's  breast. 
The  nurseling  uses  its  suction-pump,  the  Am- 
mophila  her  dart,  without  ever  being  taught; 
and  both  are  past  masters  of  the  difficult  art 
from  the  first  attempt.  There  we  have  in- 
stinct, the  unconscious  impulse  that  forms  an 
essential  part  of  the  conditions  of  life  and  is 
398 


The  Modern  Theory  of  Instinct 

handed  down  by  heredity  in  the  same  way  as 
the  rhythmic  action  of  the  heart  and  lungs. 

Let  us  try,  if  possible,  to  trace  the  Ammo- 
phila's  instinct  to  its  source.  We  suffer  to- 
day, more  than  we  ever  did,  from  a  mania 
for  explaining  what  might  well  be  incapable 
of  explanation.  There  are  some  —  and 
their  number  seems  to  increase  daily  —  who 
settle  the  stupendous  question  with  magnifi- 
cent audacity.  Give  them  half-a-dozen  cells, 
a  bit  of  protoplasm  and  a  diagram  for  de- 
monstration; and  they  will  account  to  you  for 
everything.  The  organic  world,  the  intel- 
lectual and  moral  world,  everything  derives 
from  the  original  cell,  evolving  by  means  of 
its  own  energies.  It's  as  simple  as  A  B  C. 
Instinct,  roused  by  a  chance  action  that  has 
proved  favourable  to  the  animal,  is  an  ac- 
quired habit.  And  men  argue  on  this  basis, 
invoking  natural  selection,  heredity,  the 
struggle  for  life.  I  see  plenty  of  big  words, 
but  I  should  prefer  a  few  small  facts. 
These  little  facts  I  have  been  collecting  and 
catechizing  for  nearly  forty  years;  and  their 
replies  are  not  exactly  in  favour  of  current 
theories. 

You  tell  me  that  instinct  is  an  acquired 
habit,  that  a  casual  circumstance,  propitious 
399 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

to  the  animal's  offspring,  was  the  first  to 
prompt  it.  Let  us  look  into  the  thing  more 
closely.  If  I  understand  aright,  we  must 
suppose  some  Ammophila,  in  a  very  remote 
past,  to  have  accidentally  injured  her  cater- 
pillar's nervous  centres;  to  have  found  her- 
self the  gainer  by  this  operation,  both  as 
regards  herself,  in  being  released  from  a 
struggle  not  unattended  with  danger,  and  as 
regards  her  larva,  thus  supplied  with  fresh, 
living  and  yet  harmless  victuals;  and  con- 
sequently to  have  endowed  her  offspring,  by 
heredity,  with  a  natural  tendency  to  repeat 
the  advantageous  device.  The  maternal 
legacy  did  not  benefit  all  the  descendants 
equally:  some  were  poor  hands  at  the  new- 
born art  of  the  stiletto;  others  were  adepts. 
Then  came  the  struggle  for  existence,  the 
hateful  vet  victis/  The  weak  went  under, 
the  strong  flourished;  and,  as  age  succeeded 
age,  selection  by  vital  competition  changed 
the  fleeting  impression  of  the  start  into  a 
deep-rooted,  ineffaceable  impression,  exem- 
plified in  the  masterly  instinct  which  we  ad- 
mire in  the  Wasp  to-day. 

Well,  I  avow,  in  all  sincerity,  this  is  ask- 
ing a  little  too  much  of  chance.     When  the 
Ammophila  first  found  herself  in  the  pre- 
400 


The  Modern  Theory  of  Instinct 

sence  of  her  caterpillar,  there  was  nothing, 
you  would  have  it,  to  guide  the  sting.  The 
choice  was  made  at  random.  The  pricks 
were  directed  at  the  upper  surface  of  the  cap- 
tured prey,  at  the  lower  surface,  at  the  sides, 
the  front  and  the  back  indiscriminately,  ac- 
cording to  the  fortunes  of  a  close  struggle. 
The  Hive-bee  and  the  Social  Wasp  sting 
those  points  which  they  are  able  to  reach, 
without  showing  a  preference  for  one  part 
over  the  other.  That  is  how  the  Ammophila 
must  have  acted,  when  still  ignorant  of  her 
art. 

Now  how  many  points  are  there  in  a  Grey 
Worm,  above  and  below?  Mathematical 
accuracy  would  answer,  an  infinity;  a  few 
hundreds  will  serve  our  purpose.  Of  this 
number,  nine  or  perhaps  more  have  to  be 
selected;  the  needle  must  be  inserted  there 
and  no  elsewhere:  a  little  higher,  a  little 
lower,  a  little  to  one  side,  it  would  not  pro- 
duce the  desired  effect.  If  the  favourable 
event  is  a  purely  accidental  result,  how  many 
combinations  would  be  needed  to  bring  it 
about,  how  much  time  to  exhaust  all  the  pos- 
sible cases?  When  the  difficulty  becomes 
too  pressing,  you  take  refuge  behind  the  mist 
of  the  ages;  you  retreat  into  the  shadows  of 
401 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

the  past  as  far  as  fancy  can  carry  you;  you 
call  upon  time,  that  factor  of  which  we  have 
so  little  at  our  disposal  and  which,  for  this 
very  reason,  is  so  well-suited  to  hide  our  illu- 
sions. Here  you  can  let  yourselves  go  and 
lavish  the  centuries.  Suppose  we  shake  up 
hundreds  of  figures,  all  of  different  values, 
in  an  urn  and  draw  nine  at  random.  When 
shall  we,  in  this  way,  obtain  a  sequence  fixed 
beforehand,  a  sequence  that  stands  alone? 
The  chance  is  so  slight,  answers  mathemat- 
ics, that  we  may  as  well  put  it  down  as  nil 
and  say  that  the  desired  arrangement  will 
never  come  about.  For  the  Ammophila  of 
the  prehistoric  age,  the  attempt  was  renewed 
only  at  long  intervals,  from  one  year  to  the 
next.  Then  how  did  this  sequence  of  nine 
stings  at  nine  selected  points  emerge  from 
the  urn  of  chance?  When  I  am  driven  to 
appeal  to  infinity  in  time,  I  am  very  much 
afraid  of  running  up  against  absurdity. 

"  But,"  say  you,  "  the  insect  did  not  at- 
tain its  present  surgical  dexterity  at  the  out- 
set: it  went  through  experiments,  apprentice- 
ships, varying  degrees  of  skill.  There  was 
a  weeding-out  by  natural  selection,  elimina- 
ting the  less  expert,  retaining  the  more  gifted; 
and  instinct,  as  we  know  it,  developed  gradu- 
402 


The  Modern  Theory  of  Instinct 

ally,  thanks  to  the  accumulation  of  individual 
capacities,  added  to  those  handed  down  by 
heredity." 

The  argument  is  erroneous:  instinct  deve- 
loped by  degrees  is  flagrantly  impossible  in 
this  case.  The  art  of  preparing  the  larva's 
provisions  allows  of  none  but  masters  and 
suffers  no  apprentices;  the  Wasp  must  excel 
in  it  from  the  outset  or  leave  the  thing  alone. 
Two  conditions,  in  fact,  are  absolutely  essen- 
tial: that  the  insect  should  be  able  to  drag 
home  and  store  a  quarry  which  greatly  sur- 
passes it  in  size  and  strength;  and  that  the 
newly-hatched  grub  should  be  able  to  gnaw 
peacefully,  in  its  narrow  cell,  a  live  and  com- 
paratively enormous  prey.  The  suppression 
of  all  movements  in  the  victim  is  the  only 
means  of  realizing  these  conditions;  and  this 
suppression,  to  be  complete,  requires  sundry 
dagger-thrusts,  one  in  each  motor  centre.  If 
the  paralysis  and  the  torpor  be  not  sufficient, 
the  Grey  Worm  will  defy  the  efforts  of  the 
huntress,  will  struggle  desperately  on  the  road 
and  will  not  reach  the  journey's  end;  if  the 
immobility  be  not  complete,  the  egg,  fixed 
at  a  given  spot  on  the  worm,  will  perish  un- 
der the  contortions  of  the  giant.  There  is 
no  via  media,  no  half-success.  Either  the 
403 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

caterpillar  is  treated  according  to  rule  and 
the  Wasp's  family  is  perpetuated;  or  else  the 
victim  is  only  partially  paralysed  and  the 
Wasp's  offspring  dies  in  the  egg. 

Yielding  to  the  inexorable  logic  of  things, 
we  will  therefore  admit  that  the  first  Hairy 
Ammophila,  after  capturing  a  Grey  Worm 
to  feed  her  larva,  operated  on  the  patient  by 
the  exact  method  in  use  to-day.  She  seized 
the  creature  by  the  skin  of  the  neck,  stabbed 
it  underneath,  opposite  each  of  the  nerve- 
centres  and,  if  the  monster  threatened  fur- 
ther resistance,  munched  its  brain.  It  must 
have  happened  like  this;  for,  once  more,  an 
unskilled  murderess,  doing  her  work  in  a  per- 
functory and  haphazard  fashion,  would  leave 
no  successor,  since  the  rearing  of  the  egg 
would  become  impossible.  Save  for  the  per- 
fection of  her  surgical  powers,  the  slayer  of 
fat  caterpillars  would  die  out  in  the  first 
generation. 

Again  I  hear  you  say : 

"  The  Hairy  Ammophila,  before  hunting 
the  Grey  Worm,  may  have  picked  out  feebler 
caterpillars  and  heaped  up  several  in  one 
cell,  until  they  represented  the  same  bulk  of 
provender  as  the  big  prey  of  to-day.  With 
puny  game,  a  few  thrusts  of  the  needle,  per- 
404 


The  Modern  Theory  of  Instinct 

haps  one,  would  be  enough.  Gradually, 
large-sized  prey  came  to  be  preferred,  as  re- 
ducing the  number  of  hunting-expeditions. 
Then,  as  successive  generations  went  after 
bigger  game,  the  dagger-strokes  were  multi- 
plied, in  proportion  to  the  victim's  power  of 
resistance;  and,  by  degrees,  the  elementary 
instinct  of  the  outset  became  the  highly- 
developed  instinct  of  our  time." 

To  these  arguments  we  may  begin  by  re- 
plying that  the  larva's  change  of  diet  and  the 
substitution  of  one  morsel  for  a  number  are 
diametrically  opposed  to  what  happens  be- 
fore our  eyes.  The  Hunting  Wasp,  as  we 
know  her,  is  extremely  loyal  to  old  customs; 
she  has  sumptuary  laws  which  she  never 
transgresses.  She  who  fed  on  Weevils  in 
her  youth  puts  Weevils  and  naught  else  in 
her  larva's  cell;  she  who  was  supplied  with 
Buprestis-beetles  persists  in  the  fare  which 
she  has  adopted  and  serves  her  larva  with 
Buprestis-beetles.  One  Sphex  must  have 
Crickets;  a  second,  Grasshoppers;  a  third, 
Locusts.  Nothing  is  accepted  but  these  par- 
ticular dishes.  The  Bembex  who  hunts  Gad- 
flies revels  in  them  and  refuses  to  do  without 
them,  whereas  Stizus  ruficornis,  who  fills  the 
larder  with  Praying  Mantes,  scorns  any  other 
405 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

game.  And  so  with  the  rest.  They  have 
each  their  own  taste. 

It  is  true  that  many  allow  themselves  a 
more  varied  bill  of  fare,  but  only  within  the 
limits  of  one  entomological  group:  thus  the 
Weevil-  and  Buprestis-hunters  prey  upon 
any  species  proportioned  to  their  strength. 
Were  the  Hairy  Ammophila  to  make  a 
change  in  her  diet,  that  would  be  her  case 
too.  Whether  small  and  sundry  to  each  cell 
or  large  and  single,  the  prey  would  always 
consist  of  caterpillars.  So  far,  so  good. 
But  there  remains  the  question  of  the  many 
replaced  by  the  unit;  and  I  do  not  yet  know 
one  instance  of  such  an  alteration  in  the 
Wasp's  habits.  She  who  stocks  the  burrow 
with  a  single  joint  never  thinks  of  heaping 
up  several  of  smaller  size;  she  who  goes  on 
repeated  expeditions  to  stack  a  quantity  of 
game  in  the  same  cell  does  not  know  how  to 
limit  herself  to  one  head  by  choosing  larger 
meat.  The  result  of  my  observations  never 
varies  in  this  regard.  The  prehistoric  Am- 
mophila, who  abandoned  her  multiplicity  of 
small  game  for  one  colossal  head,  has  no- 
thing to  warrant  her  existence. 

If  the  point  were  conceded,  would  the  ques- 
tion be  advanced?  Not  in  the  least.  Let 
406 


The  Modern  Theory  of  Instinct 

us  accept  as  the  initial  prey  a  feeble  cater- 
pillar, paralysed  with  a  single  sting.  Even 
then  that  sting  must  not  be  given  at  random, 
else  the  act  would  be  more  harmful  than 
profitable.  Irritated,  but  not  subdued  by  the 
wound,  the  animal  would  but  become  more 
dangerous.  The  dart  must  strike  a  nerve- 
centre,  probably  in  the  middle  region  of  the 
string  of  ganglia.  This,  at  any  rate,  is  how 
the  present-day  Ammophilae  seem  to  go 
to  work  when  they  are  addicted  to  the  rape 
of  frail  and  slender  grubs.  What  chance 
would  the  operator  have  of  striking  that  one 
particular  point,  if  her  lancet  were  wielded 
without  method?  The  probability  is  ludi- 
crously remote:  it  is  as  one  to  the  count- 
less number  of  points  whereof  the  caterpil- 
lar's body  is  made  up.  And  yet,  according  to 
the  theorists,  it  is  on  this  probability  that  the 
Wasp's  future  depends.  What  an  edifice  to 
balance  on  the  point  of  a  needle  I 

Let  us  go  on  admitting  and  continue. 
The  desired  point  is  struck;  the  prey  is  duly 
paralysed;  the  egg  laid  on  its  flank  will  de- 
velop in  safety.  Is  that  enough?  It  is  at 
most  but  a  half  of  what  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary. Another  egg  is  indispensable  to  com- 
plete the  future  couple  and  ensure  offspring. 
407 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

Therefore,  within  a  few  days',  within  a  few 
hours'  interval,  a  second  sting  must  be  given, 
as  successful  as  the  first.  In  other  words, 
the  impossible  has  to  be  repeated,  the  impos- 
sible raised  to  the  second  degree. 

Let  us  not  be  discouraged  yet;  let  us  sound 
the  uttermost  depths  of  the  problem.  Here 
is  a  Wasp,  some  precursor,  no  matter  which, 
of  our  Ammophila,  who,  favoured  by  chance, 
has  twice  and  perhaps  oftener  succeeded  in 
reducing  the  prey  to  that  state  of  inertia 
which  the  rearing  of  the  egg  imperatively  de- 
mands. She  does  not  kno"w,  does  not  sus- 
pect that  she  inserted  her  sting  opposite  a 
nerve-centre  rather  than  any  elsewhere.  As 
there  was  nothing  to  prompt  her  choice,  she 
acted  at  random.  Nevertheless,  if  we  are  to 
take  the  theory  of  instinct  seriously,  we  shall 
have  to  admit  that  this  fortuitous  action, 
though  a  matter  of  indifference  to  the  insect, 
left  a  lasting  trace  and  made  so  great  an  im- 
pression that,  henceforth,  the  cunning  strat- 
agem which  produces  paralysis  by  attacking 
the  nervous  centres  is  transmissible  by  he- 
redity. The  Ammophila's  successors,  by 
some  prodigious  privilege,  will  inherit  what 
the  mother  did  not  possess.  They  will  know 
by  instinct  the  point  or  points  towards  which 
408 


The  Modern  Theory  of  Instinct 

the  sting  must  be  directed;  for,  if  they  were 
still  in  the  prentice  stage,  if  they  and  their 
successors  had  to  risk  the  chance  that  acci- 
dent would  tend  gradually  to  strengthen  the 
nascent  impulse,  they  would  be  going  back  to 
the  likelihood  so  near  allied  to  nil;  they 
would  go  back  to  it  year  by  year,  for  centuries 
to  come;  and  yet  the  one  and  only  fa- 
vourable chance  would  have  to  be  always  re- 
curring. I  find  it  very  difficult  to  believe  in 
a  habit  acquired  by  this  prolonged  repetition 
of  incidents  whereof  not  one  can  take  place 
without  excluding  so  many  contrary  chances. 
It  is  a  simple  matter  of  arithmetic  to  show 
the  number  of  absurdities  against  which  the 
theorists  rush  headlong. 

Nor  is  this  all.  We  should  have  to  ask 
ourselves  how  casual  actions,  to  which  the 
insect  was  not  predisposed  by  nature,  can  be- 
come the  source  of  an  hereditary  transmis- 
sible habit.  We  should  look  upon  a  man  as 
a  sorry  wag  who  came  to  us  and  said  that 
the  descendant  of  the  desnucador  knows  the 
art  of  slaughtering  cattle  from  A  to  Z  merely 
through  being  the  son  of  his  father,  without 
the  aid  of  precept  or  example.  The  father 
does  not  use  his  blade  just  once  or  twice,  by 
accident;  he  operates  every  day  and  scores 
409 


The  Hunting  Wasps 

of  times  a  day;  he  goes  to  work  with  reflec- 
tion. It  is  his  business.  Does  this  lifelong 
practice  create  a  transmissible  habit?  Are 
the  sons,  the  grandsons,  the  great-grandsons 
any  the  wiser,  without  instruction?  No,  the 
thing  has  to  start  afresh  each  time.  Man  is 
not  predisposed  by  nature  to  this  butchery. 
If,  on  her  side,  the  Wasp  excels  in  her  art, 
it  is  because  she  is  born  to  follow  it,  because 
she  is  endowed  not  only  with  tools,  but  also 
with  the  knack  of  using  them.  And  this  gift 
is  original,  perfect  from  the  outset:  the  past 
has  added  nothing  to  it,  the  future  will  add 
nothing  to  it.  As  it  was,  so  it  is  and  will  be. 
If  you  see  in  it  naught  but  an  acquired  habit, 
which  heredity  hands  down  and  improves,  at 
least  explain  to  us  why  man,  who  represents 
the  highest  stage  in  the  evolution  of  your 
primitive  plasma,  is  deprived  of  the  like  privi- 
lege. A  paltry  insect  bequeathes  its  skill  to 
its  offspring;  and  man  cannot.  What  an  im- 
mense advantage  it  would  be  to  humanity  if 
we  were  less  liable  to  see  the  worker  suc- 
ceeded by  the  idler,  the  man  of  talent  by  the 
idiot!  Ah,  why  has  not  protoplasm,  evol- 
ving by  its  own  energy  from  one  being  into 
another,  reserved  until  it  came  to  us  a  little 
of  that  wonderful  power  which  it  has  be* 
410 


The  Modern  Theory  of  Instinct 

stowed  so  lavishly  upon  the  insects!  The 
answer  is  that  apparently,  in  this  world,  cellu- 
lar evolution  is  not  everything. 

For  these  among  many  other  reasons,  I  re- 
ject the  modern  theory  of  instinct.  I  see  in 
it  no  more  than  an  ingenious  game  in  which 
the  arm-chair  naturalist,  the  man  who  shapes 
the  world  according  to  his  whim,  is  able  to 
take  delight,  but  in  which  the  observer,  the 
man  grappling  with  reality,  fails  to  find  a 
serious  explanation  of  anything  whatsoever 
that  he  sees.  In  my  own  surroundings,  I  no- 
tice that  those  who  are  most  positive  in  the 
matter  of  these  difficult  questions  are  those 
who  have  seen  the  least.  If  they  have  seen 
nothing  at  all,  they  go  to  the  length  of  rash- 
ness. The  others,  the  timid  ones,  know 
more  or  less  what  they  are  talking  about. 
And  is  it  not  the  same  outside  my  modest 
environment  ? 


411 


APPENDIX 

The  following  Wasps  appear  to  me  to  be 
new  to  our  fauna.  I  give  a  description  of 
each  of  them. 


CERCERIS  ANTONLE  —  H.  FAB. 

Length,  16  to  18  millimetres.1  Black, 
thickly  and  deeply  spotted.  Shield,  raised 
like  a  nose,  that  is  to  say,  forming  a  convex 
projection,  broad  at  the  base,  pointed  at  the 
tip  and  resembling  one  half  of  a  cone  divided 
lengthwise.  Prominent  crest  between  the 
antennae.  A  yellow  streak  above  the  crest, 
yellow  cheeks  and  a  large  yellow  spot  behind 
each  eye.  Yellow  shield,  with  black  dot. 
Mandibles,  iron-yellow,  with  black  tips. 
First  four  or  five  joints  of  the  antennae,  iron- 
yellow;  the  rest  brown. 

Two  dots  on  the  prothorax,  the  wing- 
scales  and  the  postscutellum  yellow.  First 
segment  of  the  abdomen  has  two  round  spots. 

1f  to  f  inch. —  Translator's  Note. 
4'3 


Appendix 

The  next  four  segments  have  on  their  hinder 
edge  a  yellow  band  cut  deeply  into  the  form 
of  a  triangle,  or  even  broken  right  off;  and 
this  is  more  noticeable  in  the  less  distant  seg- 
ments. 

Under-part  of  the  body,  black.  Legs, 
iron-yellow  all  through.  Wings,  slightly 
bronzed  at  the  tip. 

The  above  is  a  description  of  the  female. 
The  male  is  unknown  to  me. 

In  colouring,  this  species  approaches  Cer- 
ceris  labiata,  from  which  it  differs  more  par- 
ticularly by  the  shape  of  the  shield  and  by  its 
size,  which  is  much  larger.  Observed  near 
Avignon  in  July. 

I  dedicate  this  species  to  my  daughter  An- 
tonia,  whose  assistance  has  often  been  of 
great  value  to  me  in  my  entomological  re- 
searches. 

B 
CERCERIS  JULIL— H.  FAB. 

Length,  7  to  9  millimetres.1  Black,  thickly 
and  deeply  spotted.  Shield,  flat.  Face  cov- 
ered with  a  fine  silvery  down.  A  narrow 

4  to  |  inch.—  Translator's  Not<< 

4H 


Appendix 

yellow  band  on  either  side  on  the  inner  edge 
of  the  eyes.  Mandibles,  yellow,  with  brown 
tips.  Antennae,  black  above,  pale  russet 
below;  lower  surface  of  their  basilar  joints, 
yellow. 

On  the  prothorax  two  small  yellow  dots, 
some  distance  apart;  yellow  wing-scales  and 
postscutellum.  A  yellow  band  on  the  third 
segment  of  the  abdomen  and  another  on  the 
fifth  segment;  these  two  bands  are  deeply 
hollowed  on  the  fore-edge,  the  first  into  a 
semicircle,  the  second  into  a  triangle. 

Under-part  of  the  body,  entirely  black. 
Black  hips;  thighs  of  the  hind-legs,  all  black; 
those  of  the  two  front  pairs,  black  at  the  root 
and  yellow  at  the  end.  Legs  and  tarsi,  yel- 
low. Wings  slightly  smoke-coloured. 

Female. 

Varieties:  i.  Prothorax  without  yellow 
dots.  2.  Two  small  yellow  dots  on  the  sec- 
ond segment  of  the  abdomen.  3.  Wider  yel- 
low band  on  the  inner  side  of  the  eyes.  4. 
Front  of  shield  edged  yellow. 

The  male  is  unknown  to  me. 

This  Cerceris,  the  smallest  in  my  district, 
feeds  her  larvae  on  very  small-sized  Weevils, 
Bruchus  grananus  and  Apion  gravidum. 
Observed  near  Carpentras,  where  she  builds 


Appendix 

her  nest  in  September,  in  the  soft  sandstone 
locally  known  as  safre. 


BEMBEX  JULIL— H.  FAB. 

Length,  18  to  20  millimetres.1  Black, 
with  bristling  whitish  hairs  on  the  head,  the 
thorax  and  the  base  of  the  first  segment  of 
the  abdomen.  Long  upper  lip,  yellow. 
Ridge-shaped  shield,  forming  a  sort  of  tri- 
hedral angle,  of  which  one  side,  that  of  the 
fore-edge,  is  all  yellow,  while  each  of  the 
two  others  is  marked  with  a  large  rectangular 
black  patch,  touching  the  adjacent  one,  so 
that  the  two  together  form  a  chevron;  these 
two  patches  and  also  the  cheeks  are  covered 
with  a  fine  silvery  down.  Cheeks  and  a 
median  line  between  the  antennae,  yellow. 
The  back  rim  of  the  eyes  has  a  long  yellow 
border.  Yellow  mandibles,  brown  at  the 
tips.  First  two  joints  of  the  antennae,  yellow 
underneath,  black  above;  the  others,  yellow. 
Prothorax,  black,  with  its  sides  and  dorsal 
division  yellow.  Mesothorax,  black;  the 
callous  dot  and  a  small  dot  on  either  side, 

Ji  to  i  inch. —  Translator's  Note. 
4l6 


Appendix 

above  the  base  of  the  intermediate  legs,  yel- 
low. Metathorax,  black,  with  two  yellow 
spots  behind  and  a  larger  one,  on  either  side, 
above  the  base  of  the  hind-legs.  The  first 
two  spots  are  sometimes  missing. 

Abdomen,  brilliant  black  above  and  bare, 
except  at  the  base  of  the  first  segment,  which 
bristles  with  whitish  hairs.  All  the  segments 
have  a  wavy  transversal  band,  wider  at  the 
sides  than  in  the  middle  and  nearer  to  the 
hinder  edge  as  the  segment  is  farther  back. 
On  the  fifth  segment,  the  yellow  band  touches 
the  hinder  edge.  Anal  segment,  yellow, 
black  at  the  root,  covered  all  over  the  dorsal 
surface  with  rusty-red  papillae,  forming  a  base 
for  bristles.  A  row  of  similar  bristle-bear- 
ing protuberances  occupies  also  the  hinder 
edge  of  the  fifth  segment.  Underneath,  the 
abdomen  is  brilliant  black,  with  a  triangular 
yellow  patch  on  either  side  of  the  four  inter- 
mediary segments. 

Black  hips;  thighs,  yellow  in  front,  black 
behind;  yellow  legs  and  tarsi.  Transparent 
wings. 

In  the  male,  the  chevron  mark  on  the  shield 
is  narrower,  or  even  entirely  absent,  in  which 
case  the  face  is  all  yellow.  The  bands  on  the 
abdomen  are  a  very  pale  yellow,  almost 


Appendix 

white.  The  sixth  segment  has  a  band  like 
those  which  come  before,  but  shorter  and 
often  reduced  to  two  dots.  The  second  seg- 
ment has  underneath  it  a  longitudinal  carina, 
raised  and  spineshaped  at  the  back.  Lastly, 
the  anal  segment  carries  below  it  a  rather 
thick  angular  projection.  The  rest  is  the 
same  as  in  the  female. 

This  Wasp  is  very  much  like  Bembex 
rostrata  in  size  and  in  the  arrangement  of  the 
black  and  yellow.  The  chief  differences  lie 
in  the  following  characteristics:  the  shield  of 
Bembex  Julii  forms  a  trihedral  angle,  whereas 
it  is  rounded  and  convex  in  the  other  Bembex. 
It  also  has  at  its  base  a  broad,  chevron- 
shaped  black  band,  formed  of  two  rect- 
angular patches  joined  together  and  pow- 
dered with  a  silvery  down,  which  is  very  bril- 
liant in  a  suitable  light.  The  upper  surface 
of  the  anal  segment  bristles  with  papillae  and 
reddish  hairs,  as  does  the  hinder  edge  of  the 
fifth  segment.  Lastly,  the  mandibles  are 
stained  black  at  the  tips  only,  whereas  the 
base  also  is  black  in  Bembex  rostrata.  Their 
habits  are  equally  dissimilar.  Bembex 
rostrata  hunts  Gad-flies  mainly;  Bembex  Julii 
never  preys  on  big  Flies  but  attacks  smaller 
ones  of  greatly  varying  species. 
418 


Appendix 

Jules'  Bembex  is  frequent  in  the  sandy  soil 
of  Les  Angles,  round  about  Avignon  and  on 
the  hill  at  Orange. 


D 
AMMOPHILA  JULIL— H.  FAB. 

Length,  16  to  22  millimetres.1  Abdominal 
petiole  consisting  of  the  first  segment  and 
half  the  second.  Third  cubital  narrowed 
towards  the  radial.  Head,  black,  with  sil- 
very down  on  the  face.  Antennae,  black. 
Thorax,  black,  with  transverse  stripes  on  its 
three  segments,  darker  on  the  prothorax  and 
the  mesothorax.  Two  patches  on  the  sides 
and  one  behind  either  side  of  the  metathorax, 
covered  with  silvery  down.  Abdomen,  bare 
and  shiny.  First  segment,  black.  Second 
segment,  red  in  the  part  narrowed  into  a 
petiole  and  in  the  widened  part.  Third  seg- 
ment, all  red.  The  others,  a  beautiful, 
metallic  indigo-blue.  Legs,  black,  with  sil- 
very down  on  the  hips.  Wings,  slightly  red- 
dish. Builds  her  nest  in  October  and  stocks 
each  cell  with  two  medium-sized  caterpillars. 
Is  nearly  related  to  Ammophila  holo- 

1.62  to  .86  inch. —  Translator's  Note. 
419 


Appendix 

scricea,  being  of  the  same  size,  but  differs 
markedly  in  the  colour  of  her  legs,  which  are 
all  black,  in  her  head  and  thorax,  which  are 
much  less  hairy,  and  in  the  transverse  stripes 
on  the  three  segments  of  the  thorax. 

I  wish  these  three  Wasps  to  bear  the  name 
of  my  son  Jules,  to  whom  I  dedicate  them. 

Dear  Jules,  snatched  at  such  an  early  age 
from  your  passionate  love  of  flowers  and 
insects,  you  were  my  fellow-worker;  nothing 
escaped  your  clear-sighted  glance;  I  was  to 
write  this  book  for  you,  to  whom  its  stories 
gave  such  delight;  and  you  yourself  were  to 
continue  it  one  day.  Alas,  you  went  to  a 
happier  home,  knowing  nothing  of  the  book 
but  its  first  lines!  May  your  name  at  least 
figure  in  it,  borne  by  some  of  those  industrious 
and  beautiful  Wasps  whom  you  loved  so 
well! 

J.  H.  F. 
ORANGE,  3  April  1879. 


420 


INDEX 


Acridian    (see  Locust) 
African  Sphex,  118 
Ammophila    (see    also    the 

varieties      below),      100, 

200,  250-271,  295-296,  301, 

322-323,  331 
Ammophila  argentata    (see 

Silvery  Ammophila) 
Ammophila     hirsuta      (see 

Hairy  Ammophila) 
Ammophila  holosericea  (see 

Silky  Ammophila) 
Ammophila  Julii,  419-420 
Ammophila    sabulosa     (see 

Sandy  Ammophila) 
Ant,  210,  242-243 
Anthrax  (see  also  Anthrax 

flava),  292 
Anthrax  flava,  291 
Aphis   (see  Plant-louse) 
Apion  gravidum,  28-29,  415 
Asidae,  55 

B 

Bacon-beetle       (see      Der- 

mestes) 
Badger,  356 
Bat     (see    also    Horseshoe 

Bat),  379 
Beccafico,  242 


Bee  (see  also  Hive-bee),  2, 
240 

Bee-eating  Philanthus  (see 
Philanthus  apivorus) 

Bee-fly   (see  Bombylius) 

Beetle,  2,  17,  24,  34,  42-61 

Bembex  (see  also  the 
varieties  below),  148, 
239,  250,  272-331,  338- 
35°,  405 

Bembex  bidentata  (see 
Two-pronged  Bembex) 

Bembex  Julii,  286-289,  292, 
416-419 

Bembex  oculata,  289-291 

Bembex  olivacea,  291 

Bembex  rostrata  (see  Ros- 
trate Bembex) 

Bembex  tarsata,  291-292, 
305-306 

Bernard  Claude,  45-49,  51 

Black-fly,  249 

Black  Tachytes,  73-75 

Blanchard  Emile,  52 

Bluebottle,  291 

Bombylius  (see  also  Bom- 
bylius nitidulus),  281, 
287,  292-293,  297,  305- 
306 

Bombylius  nitidulus,  291- 
292 

Bothynoderus    albidus,    27 
Brachyderes  gracilis,  28 


421 


Index 


Bronze  Buprestis,  55 
Bruchus  granarius,  29,  415 
Bug,    120 
Bullock   (see  Ox) 
Bunting,  235,  238 
Buprestis      (see     also     the 

varieties  below),  2,  4,  7-9, 

11-18,29,45,  52-53,  55-57, 

59,  61,  71,   107,  122,  262, 

299,  405-406 

Buprestis   biguttata,  977,   12 
Buprestis  chrysostigma,  gn 
Buprestis  fasciata,  4-7,  9/1 
Buprestis  flavomaculata,  9/1 
Buprestis-hunting    Cerceris, 

i -20,  26-27,  7* 
Buprestis  micans,  9/1,  12 
Buprestis     novemmaculata, 

9" 

Buprestis  octoguttata,  $n,  12 
Buprestis  pruni,  yn 
Buprestis  tarda,  971 
Burying-beetle      (see     Ne- 

crophorus) 
Bush-pipit,  243-244 
Butterfly,  2,  243 


Calathus,  59 

Calliphora  vomitoria  (see 
Bluebottle) 

Carabus,  55,  391 

Carrion-beetle  (see  Silpha) 

Carrier-pigeon,  336-337 

Cat,  309 

Caterpillar  (see  also  Grey 
Worm,  Looper),  100,  179, 
267-268,  296,  301 

Cellar-beetle,  34,  55 

Cerceris  (see  also  the  va- 
rieties below),  42-61,  90, 


122,  148,  151,  163,  167, 
239,  294-296,  301,  323,  347 

Cerceris  Antoma,  413-414 

Cerceris  arenaria,  28 

Cerceris  aurata,  28 

Cerceris  bupresticida  (see 
Buprestis-hunting  Cer- 
ceris) 

Cerceris  Ferreri,  28 

Cerceris  Julii,  29,  414-416 

Cerceris  labiata,  29 

Cerceris  major  (see  Great 
Cerceris) 

Cerceris  ornata,  29 

Cerceris  quadracincta,  28 

Cerceris  tuberculata  (see 
Great  Cerceris) 

Chafer   (see  Scarab) 

Chlaenius,  55,  59 

Chlorion  (see  Compressed 
Chlorion) 

Cicada,  113,  272 

Cleonus  (see  also  the  va- 
rieties below),  332 

Cleonus  alternant,  26 

Cleonus  ophthalmicus,  24- 
27,  36-41,  55,  86 

Clytia  pellucens,  292 

Cneorenus  hispidus,  28 

Coccinella  septempunctata 
(see  Seven-spot  Lady- 
bird) 

Cockchafer,  382-391 

Cockroach  (see  also  Kaker- 
lak),  11571 

Codfish,  15 

Common  Fly  (see  Fly, 
House-fly) 

Common  Wasp  (see  Social 
Wasp) 

Common  Wheat-ear  (see 
Wheat-ear) 


422 


Index 


Compressed  Chlorion,  119- 
120 

Couty,  L.,  394 

Crabro  (see  also  Hornet), 
129-130 

Crayfish,  391 

Creou  (see  Shore-lark) 

Crested  Lark,  245-246 

Cricket,  58,  65,  68-87,  89, 
92-101,  114-116,  120-123, 
125,  167-168,  170,  179- 
180,  206,  208-210,  235, 
238,  243,  250,  263,  296, 
301,  405 

Cuckoo,  315 


Dart  Moth  (see  Turnip 
Moth) 

Darwin,  Charles  Robert, 
126 

Darwin,  Erasmus,  126-130, 
137-138 

Delacour,  Th.,  223,  228 

Dermestes,  374,  376 

Dexia  rustica,  292 

Dog,  270,  375-376 

Double-lined  Buprestis,  18 

Drone-fly  (see  Eristalis) 

Dryden,  John,  133^,  390/1 

Dufour,  Leon,  2-14,  16-17, 
19,  26-27,  30,  35,  45-46,  71 

Dung-beetle  (see  also  Sa- 
cred Scarab,  Wide-necked 
Scarab) 


Earwig,  11571,  243 
Echonomyia         intermedia, 

287,  291,  293 
Echonomyia  rubescens,  286- 

287,  293 


Eel,  356 

Ephippiger  (see  also  Ephip- 
piger  of  the  Vine),  92- 
94,  115,  118,  120-121,  147- 
148,  151,  153-187,  262, 
3°i,  389 

Ephippiger  of  the  Vine, 
147-148 

Eristalis  (see  also  the  va- 
rieties below),  281,  288- 
289,  296 

Eristalis  teneus,  292 

Eristalis  sepulchralis,  292 

Eristalis  tenax,  132-137, 
288,  290 

Eyed  Lizard,  152,  356 


Fabre,  Emile,  the  author's 
son,  177-180 

Fabre,  Mile.  Aglae,  the  au- 
thor's daughter,  363,  366 

Fabre,  Mile.  Antonia,  the 
author's  daughter,  414 

Fabre,  Mile.  Claire,  the  au- 
thor's daughter,  363,  366 

Fabre,  Jules,  the  author's 
son,  420 

Favier,  the  author's  facto- 
tum, 3SI-3S9.  362-363, 
366 

Flesh-fly  (see  Sarcophaga) 

Flourens,  Marie  Jean 
Pierre,  45-49,  176,  197 

Fly  (see  also  House-fly), 
127-132,  148,  210,  250, 
276,  282,  284,  286,  288- 
292,  295-301,  346,  348, 
357,  4i8 

Fox,  356 


423 


Index 


Gad-fly,  290-293,  296-297, 
302-304,  309,  405,  418 

Geometrid  Moth,  26071 

Geonemus  flabellipes,  28 

Geron  gibbosus,  291 

Gnat  (see  also  Tachina, 
Miltogramma),  72 

Golden  Apple-beetle,  243 

Gonia  atra,  287,  293 

Goshawk,  301 

Grasset  (see  Bush-Pipit) 

Grasshopper  (see  also 
Ephippiger),  11571,  250, 
296,  405 

Great  Cerceris,  19-41,  69, 
80,  84-86,  105,  149,  332- 
337 

Greenbottle,  280-281,  291- 
292 

Green-fly,  249 

Grey  Lizard,  239 

Grey  Worm,  268,  270,  361- 
373,  375,  377,  381-384, 
386-389,  396,  398,  400-408 

Ground-beetle  (see  also 
Calathus,  Carabus,  Chla- 
nlus,  Nebria,  Procrustes, 
Sphodrus),  2,  55,  59,  107 

H 

Hairy  Ammophila,  222, 
233,  241,  246-247,  251, 
253,  259,  267-271,  359- 
390,  396,  398-410 

Helophilus  trivittatus,  292 

Herring,   15 

Hister,  52,  374,  376 

Hive-bee,  89-91,  132-134, 
191-192,  233,  384,  401 


Hornet,  134,  136-137 
Horseshoe  Bat,  379 
House-fly,  131,  288-291 

I 

Inchworm  (see  Looper) 
Infusoria,  376 


J 


Fay,  391 
Fules' 


Bembex  (see  Bembex 
Julii) 

Jules'    Cerceris    (see    Cer- 
ceris Julii) 


Kakerlak,  119-120 
L 

Lacordaire,  Jean  Theodore, 

126-127 
Ladybird     (see    Seven-spot 

Ladybird) 
Lamia,  34,  55 
Languedocian  Sphex,  92-93, 

115,  117-118,  121,  139-211, 

234,  255,  264,  389 
Lark      (see     also     Crested 

Lark,      Shore-lark,      Sky- 
lark, Tit-lark),  134 
Latreille,  Pierre  Andre,  10, 

116 
Lepeletier  de  Saint-Fargeau, 

Amedee  Comte,  118,  125, 

3'3 
Lepeletier  de  Saint-Fargeau, 

Felix,  11871 
Lepeletier  de  Saint-Fargeau, 

Louis  Michel,  n8» 
Linnzus,  63 


424 


Index 


Linnet,   391 

Lizard  (see  also  Eyed  Liz- 
ard, Grey  Lizard),  114 

Locust,  92,  94,  115-116,  119- 
i2i,  123-126,  203-207, 
242-243,  250,  262,  356,  405 

Longicornes  (see  also 
Lamia,  Saperda),  55,  59 

Looper,  260,  265,  267 

Louse   (see  Plant-louse) 

Lucilia  Caesar  (see  Green- 
bottle) 

M 

Macraillan  &  Co.,  Ltd.,  vii 
Mademoiselle      Mori,      au- 
thor of,  vii,  55« 
Magendie,    Francois,    45-49 
Maia    (see   Spider-crab) 
Mammoth,   397 
Mantis,     Mantis     religiosa 

(see  Praying  Mantis) 
Martial,  242 
Martin,  249 
Meade  -  Waldo,      Geoffrey, 

viii 
Measuring  -worm      (see 

Looper) 
Melasoma-beetle    (see  also 

Asidae,  Cellar-beetle, 

Scaurus),  55,  59 
Merodon  spinipes,  292 
Miall,   Bernard,   90 
Midge    (see    Gnat,    Milto- 

gramma) 
Millipede,  243 
Miltogramma,  309-322 
Mimic-beetle    (see    Hister) 
Mole,  374 
Moth,  261-262 
Mouse,   309 


Musca       domestica 
House-fly) 

N 


(see 


Nebria,    55,    59 
Necrophorus,    373-374 
Noctua  segetum    (see  Tur- 
nip Moth) 


Onesla  viarum,  289,   291 
Ophthalmic     Cleonus     (see 

Cleonus    ophthalmicus) 
Otiorhyncus  maleficus,    28 
Otiorhyncus  raucus,   28 
Owl,    244-245 
Ox,   15,   121,  309,   392-398 


Palarus,  90,  324 

P  a  p  i  I  i  o     machaon     (see 

Swallowtail) 
Philanthus    (see  Philanthus 

apivorus) 

Philanthus      ap'worus,      90, 
149,     191-192,     239,     323, 
347 
Phynotomus     murinus,    28- 

29 

Phynotomus  punctatus,  28 
Pigeon       (see      Carrier-pi- 
geon) 

Pipiza  nigripens,  291 
Plant-louse,    248,    383 
Polistes  gallica,  132 
Pollenia  floralis,  287,  292 
Pollenia  rudis,   291 
Pollenia  rufescens,  287 
Pollenia  ruficollis,  291,  293 


425 


Index 


Praying  Mantis,  113, 

189-192,  405 
Procrustes,  55 


Rabbit,  270,  273-274,   358 
Racine,  Jean,  390/1 
Racine,  Louis,   390-391 
Rassade  (see  Eyed  Lizard) 
Reindeer,  397 

Rhinolophus     (see     Horse- 
shoe Bat) 

Rodwell,  Miss  Frances,  vii 
Rostrate    Bembex,    274-281, 
290,  292,  418 


Sacred  Beetle,  55-56,  59, 
155-156,  269 

Sacred  Scarab  (see  Sacred 
Beetle) 

Sandy  Ammophila,  237, 
251,  253-255,  259,  261, 
267-268 

Saperda,  34,  55 

Sarcophaga  (see  also  Sar- 
cophaga agricola),  288 

Sarcophaga  agricola,  289, 
291 

Sardine,   15 

Scarab  (see  also  Sacred 
Beetle),  52,  55-57,  299 

Scarabaus  (see  Scarab) 

Scaurus,   55 

Scolia,  90,  322 

Scolytus,   52 

Sea-spider  (see  Spider- 
crab) 

Sea-urchin,  351,  354-355 

Seven-spot  Ladybird,  247- 
249 


426 


Sheep,  15,  121 

Shore-lark,  242 

Shrike  (see  Lesser  Grey 
Shrike) 

Silk  Moth,  384 

Silkworm,  384 

Silky  Ammophila,  251,  253, 
259-260,  265,  268,  419- 
420 

Silpha,  373,  376 

Silvery  Ammophila,  237, 
251,  254-255,  259,  268 

Sitona  lineata,  28 

Sitona  tibialis,  28 

Skylark,  244-246 

Snail,   243 

Snake,   356 

Social   Bee    (see  Hire-bee) 

Social  Wasp,  90-91,  130- 
137,  256,  401 

Spallanzani,    Lazaro,    379 

Spanworm   (see  Looper) 

Sparrow,  132 

Sparrow-hawk,    134,    315 

Sphsrophoria  (see  also 
Spharophoria  scripta), 
281,  291-292,  297,  300 

Sphetrophoria  scripta,  289- 
291 

Sphenoptera  geminata,  S. 
lineola  (see  Double- 
lined  Buprestis) 

Sphex  (see  also  the  varie- 
ties below),  61-211,  239, 
250,  262-263,  295-296, 
301,  322-323,  405 

Sphex  afra  (see  African 
Sphex) 

Sphex  albisecta  (see 
White-edged  Sphex) 

Sphex  flavipennis  (see 
Yellow-winged  Sphex) 


Index 


Sphex      occitanica       (see 

Languedocian  Sphex) 
Spider,  243 
Spider-crab,  353-354 
Sphodrus,   55 
Spurge  Hawk-moth,  179 
Stag-beetle,   391 
Starling,   35* 
Stizus      (see     also     Stizus 

ruficornis),    324 
Stizus  ruficornis,  405 
Stornoxys    (see    also    Stom- 
oxys  calcitrans),  281,  293 
Stomoxys    calcitrant,   291 
Surveyor   (see  Looper) 
Swallow,   249 
Swallowtail,  2-3 
Syrphus    (see  also  Syrphus 

corolla},    296 

Syrphus   corolla,  287,  291- 
293 


Tabanus,  292 
Tachina    (see    also    Milt 
gramma),  72 


Verlot,  Bernard,  225-228 
Vespa  crabro   (see  Hornet) 
Vespa  vulgaris   (see  Social 

Wasp) 
Virgil,  133,  390 

w 

Wagtail  (see  White  Wag- 
tail) 

Warbler,    315 

Wasp    (see  Social  Wasp) 

Weevil  (see  also  Cleonus), 
24,  27-41,  52-53,  55,  57, 
59,  61,  84,  86,  122,  148, 
163,  242-244,  262,  299, 
301,  333,  405-406 

Wheat-ear,  242-243 
Whin-chat,   242 

White-edged  Sphex,  75,  92, 
115,  119,  121,  168,  203- 
208 

White-tail  (see  Wheat-ear) 


Tachytes) 

Tachytes  obsoleta,  75 

Tachytes  tarsina,  76 

Tarsal  Bembex  (see  Bem- 
bex  tarsata) 

Teixeira  de  Mattos,  Alex- 
ander, zn,  5571,  i26n,  28o« 

Tit-lark,  245 

Tortoise-beetle,  243 

Triboulet,  216,  221 

Turnip  Moth,   381 

Two-pronged  Bembex,  290, 
292 


White  worm, 
Wide-necked 


arab,  55 


Yellow-winged  Sphex,  58, 
61-115,  "9,  121-125,  145, 
159,  161,  168,  170,  2o65 
208-211 


Zodion  notatum,  292 


427 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 

COLLEGE  LIBRARY 

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